Matthew J. A. Bryan Poems

The sounds of a thousand guns pierce the silent night,
It is hard to sleep with men dying only feet away,
My nightmares are a bitter representation of war,
Every day the nightmare I die in becomes more of a reality.
...

Swirls of colours form objects,
Green sky and blue grass,
Two headed beasts that roam and
Winged monsters screeching in the sky,
...

I have eyes, yet I do not see,
I have hands, yet I do not feel,
I have a nose, yet I cannot smell,
I have a mouth, yet I cannot taste,
...