War

• Logan Smith, Grade 10
• Poetry
• 2021

Red, the shed of young blood and the evil in one's eyes
Lungs and nostrils burn from the overwhelming scent of smoke
The foul taste of pennies in your mouth, not knowing if it's metal or blood
Screaming fills the entire field around you, from the screech of machinery, to the whistle of flying bombs and the haunting whisper of death
Everyone feels uncomfortable, from the severity of the situation and their forced role
It's hard to focus your eyes on one thing amongst the clutter of helpless motion
War comes it's way into the minds of everyone involved, from the silent fear before, the intense pain during and the trauma faced years later