Falling heavily from high in the sky,
The shock! Inexplicable suddenness!
Receiving atoms of dust in the eye,
Disrupting what should have been peacefulness.
In a forest full of beautiful plants,
That have been burned down to hard black ashes,
What with the ground shaking, trees tipping, chants
Of war and fights being sung, loud crashes…
Quick! Duck! Hide! Just hide! Again it’s the shells!
All were thrown into chaotic panic,
We reacted fast, soon ringing of bells,
All were not so fast, all were not so quick,
And with the sound of wailing alarms,
Two do not make it in time to live,
I see one explode in front of me, arms
On the left, head at my feet, no time to give.
I run as fast as my legs allow it,
Mud on my shoes, dirty blood on my hands,
Away from all the bloodshed and conflict,
Not realising I carry war plans,
Preventing war for a little longer,
For war is not any way to ceasefire,
It only makes us all so much weaker,
To encourage our loved ones to die.
“My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.” – Wilfred Owen, Dulce Et Decorum Est