4 January 2013
The shrieking din when bombs explode, The sound of weeping from a fallen abode. As a woeful warning, dead men lie, Like distressed ravens, the wounded cry: The dreadful souvenirs of a damaging war.
The foretelling of death creeps all around, Causing pain and misery without a sound. But those distraught will welcome death, After their loved ones draw their last breaths: The painful souvenirs of a mournful war.
Optimistic soldiers trying to cope: They're slowly fading lights, but not giving up hope. The hope is boldly striding about To all who listen, but many still doubt; The hopeful feelings of a traumatic war.
The Souvenirs Of War • Opuss № I