6
drums are beating on my head
bombs exploding around me
the air is filled with damp smoke
i hear the cries as thunder rolls
i see their blood everywhere
cleansing the earth
in eaches own opinion
it soaks my cloathes and-
makes the ground slick
this rain never really ends
casualties of war.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
