War

Tue, 09/18/2018 - 16:29 -- JDiatte

It's a battle, it's a bomb site.

It's rainy, it's smokey.

Gusts of fire reign over the night.

Pools of hot led filled blood cover the grass.

Sparks from the swords seen from far away.

In the middle of the battle field stands a man.

His hair drenched in sweat, raggidy and wet.

He gets knocked down, cut, and bloody but won't give up!

He runs over to defeat another,

then takes a deep breath and looks up,

He smiles then does it again.

The storms of men won't end.

It's the battles of life, get up, fight, and defend.

            Joey R. C. Diatte

 

 

 

 

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741