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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Sitting outside in the cold wet mud, Hearing footprints thud and thud, Hearing the cry if men who die, Watching the spider eat the fly, Bang bang gotthe guns, Listening to helpless men run, Bullets of death fly in the air, Killing them cold, leaving them bare, Blaze of bullets, Small rusted golden nuggets, Coming in all shapes and sizes, Receiving them like painful surprises, I want to be afraid but I simply can't, Or shall I be afraid? No I shan't, Showing it would mean I am frigid and weak, A small boy all pale and bleak, For am I wicked and cruel, To shoot a man who follows a fool, But shall not fall to the for, Never to let my emotions show, Blazing at me the cruel little things, A ringing in my ear I hear them sing, For gazing out at no man's land, at the dark despair, It's empty and scary but I do not care, We all don't like this whole crumpling affair, Low on food, too little to share, But yet weshow our kind and caring hearts, Like band if brothers never to part, A repeat of loud angry and frightened men shout, "Show yourselves you lazy louts", Drunk and ignorant they show no fear, For them I shed no emotional tear, A cruel coldness clings to me, The nightly trenches I forget what I see, Sharp barbed wire stabs my mortal thigh, Holding in my muffled cry, For when I grow old, dull and grey, Writing this poem on this miserable day, Crouching in cold, damp much next to my mullet, Never shall I forget the Blaze of Bullets.
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