A Sonnet Of War Poem by Alex Barraclough

Screams of projectiles rip through the sky,
Peirced with angry noise, smog enveloped the air.
Shadows hiding where children lurked, cries silenced by screams.
A hurried wind races through the street,
Plucking people out of their homes, forcing dust and sand to fly,
Rally banners lie broken soldiers,
corpses strewn, flow rivers of defeat.

The ink runs off the page, Watched by mouths that cannot speak.

In my hold, splinters crack the door,
a web of lines appear.
Sitting in a dark corner, my clothes dank with fear.
An old chair, bed, table govern the room, buckling under the pressure.
Stealing a breath, relief soothes aching limbs,
Slumber takes over as i wait for tomorrow.