A warm jungle
Through the warm jungle you can hear every cry.
Crackling gunfire trickles in the echoes;
Why this place fell and crumbled, no one knows why.
There they all fall in place like a domino.
Welcome to the jungle, filled with death and ill.
A jungle of fear, a few dare to challenge.
A smoke, a radio, anything to kill;
At times, there were fires that went unchallenged.
The smell of sulfur roams through this jungle air.
A surplus supply of shell rounds in the jeep.
Bugs, trash, dirty clothes, all I see everywhere.
The monumental hill is too big and steep.
Men were lost, but never forgotten prayers.
Some make it home; some make there way up the stairs.
Copyright © Trent Turney | Year Posted 2015
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