War Shells
By birksy
At war, within the trench, above my head, certain death, keep it down, chest to the ground, hold my own stinking breath. Where's there to go, I'm in the black of night, hands, head and legs feel tightly bound, could die in a moment, flick off that light, I would give my soul for that second sight. But I must stay blinded, fool to myself, pray for the Gods to deliver some health, and when I look up I may be killed, shell from an enemy I'll never know. Written March 29th, 2002 © on Mar 29 2002 07:33 AM PST, Simon Birks 0 • 10
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"At war, within the trench,..."