A world scorched and charred,
Burned by a war with soldiers not knowing what they are fighting for.
What is the point now?
Where is there to run?
What is there to be done?
Contained in a ten feet deep hole,
There is nothing to be done,
And nowhere to run.
Just hold your hands over your head
And hope the bombardment isn't as close as you fear.
Just shit defenseless while bombs whistle in the air.
Just sit while your comrades cry in fear.
Just sit listening to the agonizing screams of lost limbs and broken minds.
And just sit as those you know get buried by the by walls of the front line.
The banging of artillery and constant shots ringing in your ears.
Creating a fear known by many but should be known to none.
Fear every time you must peek,
Fear as those around you die from an unknown toxin.
Fear even as you go home,
Still fighting, only on a different front.
Whether the war is over or not, the fighting never ends,
It stays and frays the mind.
A constant battle between one and one's self.
Shaking, twitching, no don't touch me, please don't be near.
Things will never go back to being normal for you.
And society won't see you any other way than a coward.
Become a man they say as they spit at your feet.
The war may be over, but it's effects never will be.
