The War Poem by AJ J
The War
The Fire Burns, the fire hurts.
The Wood is ash.
The wall is trash.
The life is burned, the fire cold.
It fixes mistakes, it fixes rage.
Granades are Falling, filled with dead.
The noises loud, the music out.
The blood is deep, the hurt is big.
The skuls remaining in the silck
The Walls are trembling, pure with Rage.
The bang is loud, it falls to ground.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/28/2026 4:06:45 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
