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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Fear of war: Bullet casings strike the ground as the sound of war numbs his eardrums. The sent of sulfur and black powder fill his flaring nostrils as he stares down the barrel of his riffle. Barley eighteen he knows fear better than any man working nine to five on Americas boarders and as he sits perfectly still looking through the mud splattered scope he sees the young face of his predestined enemy. Pure terror. The lines of affliction deepen around his mouth and in his chaotic mind he prays to god he didn’t have to take the shot. Tanks roar across the soaked bog, echoing the sound of robotic chains. Missiles fall from the sky piercing though the red clouds in whisking lines. The massive elongated shell screeches like a banshee just before exploding, demolishing their targets below. Black soil erupts, carrying with it dismembered and blood drenched bodies. Scared and angry wails cause disarray. “This cant be real.” The boy thinks as heavy black dirt falls around him like rain. His emerald eyes dilate in size as he surveys the destroyed land. Overhead flybys are made, Fighter jets taking aim with enormous guns hidden among their metal frames. The pulling back of hammers and bullets striking flesh. Screams of unimaginable pain, rolling tanks and swords clashing against the enemies seethe. Even the sound of warm blood splashing across the tips of untouched grass blades. And as he stops, lowering his gun he hears the sound he has feared the most. A gasp exiting the lungs as he takes in his last shallow breath. “Yes.” He mind echoes as he lays in his own spilled soil. “This is the song of every man, every solider stuck in the world of war.” His eyes grow cold as he succumbs to his injury. A bullet to the chest.
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