War

• Monique Rechichi, Grade 6
• Poetry
• 2021

As I arrive I see myself holding a gun
Deep inside I am hungry and numb
I am scared and nervous, my senses dumbed
I am sad that I was forced to come
As poppies grow, bullets fly
Cold crowded trenches, I look to the sky
Over the top I fear the cry
I hope it’s not my last goodbye
As I sat there trying not to cry,
The explosions around, I had to survive
As I hear the stabbing of knives, I think about my dearest wife
I need to stay alive!