super serious war poem
bang, bang.
boom, boom.
ow.
the rifle bullets ripple and tear through the trenches.
bullets riddle my body, it hurts,
quiet literally, I'm in pain.
bullets run out in spurts.
fiery hot bullets rush my chest like a train.
ouch.
bullet ripping, running soldiers,
dodging bayonets, they raid our trench.
we run and hide behind a pile of boulders,
we camp 'til the end; rain downs the camp's drench.
dead.
- not Freddy Mitch.
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