Miss Bent

While I’m away remember me,
For I will remember the good times we had.
I’ve had my photo taken, look at it sometimes while I’m away,
And if I’m killed in this bloody affray.
Stiff on the battlefield, silent and still,
Frame it and keep it for it’s all there will be
An image, a likeness, a portrait of me. 
They never knew what it was like back at home; hell on earth day in and day out.
The trenches our home, filled with horror.
The shouts “over the top” were the words we dread,
Not knowing if we would return. 
The guns fell silent the whistle blew, a sound we dread,
As men scrambled up and forward.
The bullets like flies all around, men’s bodies ripped many fell down.
Forward, forward we were compelled all the while men falling, falling.
From men, screams, one of many sounds
Still the whistles blew, forward, forward! 
A sudden thud, a pain, I fell, I looked up still men went forward.
A warmth, a peace the silence the silence fell,
A cry of help, help but none came.
The water encased me the mud cascaded down.
Darkness came the light was gone.
Here I am lost in the ground,
A name on a stone, on a wall is all that is left that I lived at all.

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