The Game Of War

• Xandi Henshall, Grade 9
• Poetry
• 2019

A large dark cloud,
none can see
They thought they'd be proud,
now none will be
People cry - but not of joy
As happy as a lonely child
lives thrown around like a toy
Ignoring the bodies that slowly piled
July, August, September, October
The months continued
over and over
The doom you can't elude
Rivers run red
Smoke fills the air
Bodies fill their bed
The games never fair
they thought the game was going to be fun,
but blood begins to pour
Looking down the barrel of a gun,
and realise it’s the game of war