Back then it was just a game
Something we imagined
Handguns that were really just hands
The whistling of bombs that was really just whistling
We would run around yelling
And cursing the day we joined our pretend army
We would sit around repeating things we had heard adults say
Then resume the game
Screaming profanities
Shouting that there are no men on the battlefield
Only demons.
How ironic
We didn’t know how right we were
We didn’t know it then…
What we said was true
War is Hell!
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Poems Journal
Just some random poems I wrote.
II Legend Girl II
Community Member |
[img:ebb87cf3cb]http://us.cdn3.123rf.com/168nwm/dkgilbey/dkgilbey0701/dkgilbey070100015/706941-lone-pawn-on-a-chess-board--slighty-grainy-bw-image-shallow-dof.jpg[/img:ebb87cf3cb]
It's funny how the smallest piece can make the biggest difference.
[img:ebb87cf3cb]http://tinyurl.com/6696nqt[/img:ebb87cf3cb]
It's funny how the smallest piece can make the biggest difference.
[img:ebb87cf3cb]http://tinyurl.com/6696nqt[/img:ebb87cf3cb]