The Thunder Of Guns By Geoffrey Heath Price

The thunder of guns
The screams of a horse
Fields full of blood
Now a matter of course.
Trees are all shattered
Bodies lie all around
Rats eating dead flesh
Bones cover the ground.
Dreams now of glory
Are thought of no more
Just raw bloody carnage
That’s the reality of war.
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Some dead lie in mud
Or barbed wire pinned
Their lives have been taken
Souls blown on the wind.