Regardless

Pick up your army gun and go and fight,

Use your whit and grit with all of your might,

Use your rank as cover and take refuge at the back,

Let lesser morsels explore the bomb beaten track. 

Victims of terror, pawns in a political game,

With many now sadly being mentally insane,

As to explore no man’s land is a shaking fear,

With raining explosions booming in your ear. 

Boldly marching on, breaking the frozen puddles,

Bitter cold biting, sending your senses in muddles,

And to be brave by soldiering on under the sun –

A comfort to cling to while facing what’s to come. 

Gruesome death, dismembered limbs flying,

Soldiers painstakingly trying to aid the dying,

Disorder, chaos at the front, shooting and stabbing

Slipping, hiding, taking cover while manoeuvring. 

© Andrew Stevenson 12/03/2017

 

A re-edited piece.

 

Thank you. Love love, Andrew. Bye.