Poem Hunter
Poems
013. The Damage Of War
JK ( / Crawley)

013. The Damage Of War

I lie on the scarred battle field
with bloodied arms and legs
listening to the whistling of the shells
the explosions rock the ground

I see my comrades around me
lying unmoving on the mud
my feeble cries for help
land on deaf ears

The sound of whirring wakes me
a man in a white over coat
moves slowly closer
holding out his hand
as if at a meeting

I wake again
along and in a bed
the doctor comes in to see me
his pale face shows sorrow

As I stand alone in the rain
by the big stone monument
I shed a tear and think
how close it was
for one of them
to be me

User Rating: 5,0 / 5 ( 1 votes ) 1

Comments (1)

A sad poem. I loved it. If was about you or someone you know hope everyone is ok. Thank you