The Story Of War

[Stanley]

The Story of War

In blood baptised battlefields are like home for me
even though my home is so far away.
Turned in something it doesn't want to be,
what used to be colourful gradually turned grey.

Trenches are like hell to all brothers in arms,
one long hell, crossing countries
stretched across fields and farms.
Continually covered with death driven bodies.

Everybody there is
drunk, tired and dirty.
Aged sixteen to thirty
eventually all of them soon becomes His.

Shells on the ground, among bodies of men
comrades, mates, buddies or friends.
In this world of war, they’re all part of a plan,
a plan that never ends.

When will there be peace?
When will this battle be won?
No more crying families
because their boy 'tragically' is gone.

IF I return, will I be kissed
or forgotten by the most?
Will I disappear and be missed,
or pass away on this golden grey coast?

The story of war, cruel as it sounds:
death is certain, a thing angels can’t prevent
The story of War, close to hell hounds;
torture till the end...
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Ik had nog een gedicht gevonden die ik ooit op de middelbare school heb moeten schrijven...
niet echt boeiend maar ik dacht ik post hem toch maar
misschien dat ik nog ooit een keer een engelse maak, je moet alles een keer proberen he