Things We Did

Running, Through the trenches.
Dark and damp with blood.
I see my fellow comrades;
who are now my brothers.
Many of them dead.

The bombs fly from every;
direction roaring plans overhead,
we avoid as many as we can,
some are lucky.
Avoiding the enemy most don’t,
make it I watch my brother die slowly.
As if he were being tortured.

We run trench to trench.
Avoiding the enemy.
Most of us don’t make it.
Watching my brother slowly die,
from the shrapnel that is severed,
in his upper torso.

Walking along, Staying alert, and ready
roof tops lurk as if the enemy were,
there watching us patrol.
Some of our men are up there.
What roof tops we don’t know.
Shots figher, we scatter like ants on a hill.
Looking for casualties and grenades;
we hide out.

We hear the sounds of people screaming.
Then hear a loud Bang.
We see the smoke.
It starts to rise over the building tops.
The streets are suddenly emerged with,
people running from,
the scene.

Seeing my family smile I’m home.
Their faces turn to tears when they see;
my brother isn’t beside me.
Living with what I saw and how he died;
blood stained jacket and pants I wear every day.

We run from being gunned down some,
die instantly others lay there frantic.
Calling the Medic;
there’s nothing I can do.