25 November 2012

I crouch inside this muddy trench. Death is a disease. I'm clouded by smoke With a feeling of unease.

I hear a scream. A cry. A plea. But none of this Reaches me.

I'm firing at another man. Trying to survive. But does it really matter Wether I live or die?

The shell-shocked men. Harsh bright light. I used to care About this fight.

Bullets whizzing Rolling dice. Men praised for Their sacrifice

I feel a pain And look to see The blood spreading Steadily.

I crouch down low And call for aid. But by the time they come I'm laid

In the mud. On the floor. This is how we die, We heroes of war.

I get up slowly. Painfully. I stand up and fire. Death comes for me.

I shake him off. Scream and cry. But I have no choice. I was born to die.

BobdimmerDeath Is A Disease • Opuss № I