Scars

• Robert Banks, Grade 7
• Poetry
• 2006

Up in heaven as I remember
That horrible war that dreadful September
I retell the story of that war
Driven by people who want more and more

That horrid place of pure destruction
Those freezing trenches of poor construction
I’m covered in dried, flaking mud
And also surrounded by pools of blood

I hear screams of agony from the medic tent
That vile smell of deathly scent
A friend, lying he bled and bled
And in the blink of an eye he was lying limply, dead

I eat my steak as a meal
The blisters on my feet I peel
I sit in the trenches ragged and cold
These boys and men will never grow old

I’m called to fight at the front-line
I think of my family and kids of mine
I feel the surge of adrenaline rushing in
I will fight no more killing is a sin

The commander screams fight
I look up in reluctant fright
All around the men are falling
And soon I will too be face up lolling

I feel the pain rushing to my head
As my body fills with lead
This anger for this war I feel
These scars of mine will never heal