Blood stained and broken.
Hope is dim, this is over.
My friend’s blood has stained my clothing.
I lie here, lifeless.
Blood and gore, friends and enemy.
What is the difference? None of it matters.
I’m here now awaiting on the brightest light.
The shams the lies.
Seduced by amateurs.
Limbs and gore surround me.

Departed? My friends are dead.
Until the saints come marching home.
We are not saints, demented, tortured, wind bags.
Arriving home in body bags.
Only for the donkeys as clueless as the rest – for whom are they really cheering? Us, or the survivors?

Night falls like mortar shells.
Crashing and exploding down behind.
Awaiting hell I lie, only for the grotesque rats scratching and feeding on my comrades and enemies open wounds and limbs.
An explosion goes off in the rear, blood and guts, limbs and organs fly.
The patter of blood falls, like a downpour of rain.

The final push, going numb, bleeding immensely, drunk with fatigue, friends frothing like rabid dogs
Enable to move I let the yellow fog set in over head
Chucking up blood and foam the mustard gas has surely set its course.
In fits and spasms, immense pain
My contaminated wounds start oozing an ominous liquid
Now becoming unconscious I lie, lifeless grasping my gun and raising it slowly so I can feel the burn

Bleeding and foaming I start to pull back the trigger on my Lugar
knowing that this hell is finally over
A tear falls for the comrades
With a loud bang, then a silencing encore