The Gates


Through the fields we run, men screaming covered in their own blood Through the hail of bullets, while the generals laugh seeing only the numbers and not the truth. We hope to survive, working through restless nights because only the dead can sleep soundly, I hope I can wash away the blood but I’ve run out of time as I see the field poppies turn to a field of chlorine gas these new inventions the pinnacle of the war. As I lie there I see, the gate to heaven or to hell not knowing my fate.

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