The Final Touch
Upon the foggy hills I sat
With a hat on my bloody lap
Contemplation is my thoughts
Whilst humming in my lips
Aviators all around
Dropping shells to the ground
With a big booming sound
People screaming through the air
Run for your lives they declare
This is the way it was
Back in the year of 1921.
The evil that is war
Zaian war.
7/1/16
Copyright © Mindi Madsen | Year Posted 2016
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