Shrapnel Rain

A war that is fought by those who do not know. The reasons why they lay down their lives. With the rattle of death, approaching the hot metal rips, men fall like new sown wheat. They jump over man made mounds screaming in the name of king and country all the while those in charge sit safe and sound in riches and finery sipping and laughing not a care for those in the trenches

Under a cloudy sky they fall screams of those who are about to die.

Muddy holes dot the land and shells of fire never tire. The metal rain keeps falling never stopping, never stopping

Machine guns blaze and mow again from sun rise to sunset

The barbwire tangled and thick catches flesh and clothes alike

Screaming from a thousand feet above the bombs that burst and throw out their metal reapers maiming and killing all who stand in the way.

Cold rain falls now across the silent place the leaders pat themselves on the back a job well done against the Hun never minding the broken thousands who gave their lives for a cause not fully understood.

Pieces of metal stabbed through now unseeing eyes of a fallen troop all the while the commanders cheer brave deeds done all in the name of glory in the name of king and in the name of country