Hot lead dripping onto my skin and there nothing to stop it.
Gases burning my eyes to a liquid paste in my head,
These are times of war.

Days and nights,
months and years in trenches.
through rain, snow, and sun that blisters the skin in seconds.
These are the thrills of war?

Alliances with Alliances,
In a web so complicated that scholars,
Heads spin like a child top.
The times of war are coming.

I can hear the drums.
The reverberation in the earth below.

The shrieks are are high pitch,
so high that when they end they are more than above a whisper....
Low Groans of agony,
so base low baritone that it sounds only of distant thunder....
Pains of war are bruises on hearts.

Brothers
fathers
boys
and
men
Children never seeing the dads.
Never to hear the wisdom of the grandfathers...
Or to laugh with a husband that never was.
That is truly heartbreaking.

We sit in our graves,
meant to protect us.
But,
what of the melting flesh gasses?
That's what I thought.

I will just sit here with my gas mack on.
And maybe sleep for a while.....