Wars Lament

Beneath the damn blood-stained sunsets, cold and red, Where shadows crawl on fields of poppies dead, Some poor soul walks, burdened by the grit, Memories of a war, where every heart got hit. In those trenches deep, where death and darkness breed, Gunshots drumming, a heartbeat of a brutal deed. Stories of that harsh battlefield linger, persist, Where they stripped youth bare, and gave it a twist. Through gas-soaked nightmares and the relentless rain, A silhouette trudging, carrying silent pain. Echoes of comrades linger in the mist, Voices lost, drowned in a war's cruel twist. In trenches scarred by the ceaseless fight, Darkness falls, a haunting and endless night. No sweet lies here, no disguise, Just fading echoes of truth, where sacrifice lies. Now, the drumbeat slows, a funeral march begins, A solemn procession for all those lost, for their sins. The poppies bow in silence, the shadows weep, As the echoes of war fade into an eternal sleep.