War

• Elizabeth Gilroy
• Poetry
• 2016

The word war, is as in its description,
Just a word, but the act of war,
is so much more.
It is the sound of bullets screaming past your head,
The squelch of your shoes on the blood soaked ground,
And the worst of all, the battle in your mind.

Your friends and foe crying out for mercy.
I am lucky to never know the feeling of realising,
That the people over there are trying to kill you,
And I am trying to kill them.
Thousands lost a limb, even more lost their lives,
And even more lost their sanity.
We call ourselves human but it is not humane,
Not fair and certainly not right.
It is just war.