The Darkest Hour

Darkness awakes, trenches filled with nothing but men and mud.
Never ending bleeding in filthy clothing and sorrowful pain.
Woken up, horrified by the crimson sight of blood.
Nothing but shooting through the rain.

Exposed by enemy forces, unable to carry.
Frozen. Like sun in its last heavy hour.
The cold scratching my skin, leaving me in wary.
This is a feeling with no such power.

As the day finally began to end, heard shots of fire once again.
Eyes slowly begin to fade as my hands begin to unclench.
Rising and falling yet again.
Nothing but a faint whistle down in the darkest trench.

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