These Men Shall Die

[Deciviel]

The fight, this hell, it’s all too real,
Suffering from wounds that will not heal.
Battle hardened and ready for war,
Fields of bodies, blood, guts and gore.

Trenches filled to the brim, you see,
Of nothing but unrelenting misery.
The screams of a puppet dyeing in pain,
Along with his comrades, the fellow slain.

Shells in the distance light up the sky,
Marking the night these men shall die.
Lives wasted on the meekest of things,
Tonight’s the night the raven sings.

The shouting of the general as he presses on,
But by now nearly half of the men are gone.
Arms blown away, guts falling from their stomachs,
The sickening smell of blood and vomit.

Tonight’s the night these men shall die,
Standing where their bodies will lie.
One last breath they all shall take,
Until, from this hell, they shall awake.