The Soldier Poem by Iris Popa Wesmas

Black,
Swollen eyes stare.
Time,
flows by,
But the worry,
And grief,
Doesn't.
Brave lads,
Go to that man made hell.
They think it is a joke,
A play,
Where they are actors,
On stage.
Until they see it.
They see the misery.
They see the pain.
Desperate,
Shadowed faces,
Blink back at them.
Some whisper words of luck,
Others,
Just shake their heads.
It is their turn now,
To back away.
Huge craters,
Arised in front of them.
It stank of loss,
And blood.
The final battle,
Had begun.