The storm of death,
rolling clouds of gas,
a thunder of explosions,
and an endless rain of bullets,
the storm of death.

And amongst the chaos not all bullets are shot at the enemy.
And for the traumatized soldiers,
a conscious nightmare of death and corruption.
The storm of death.

All you hear is the gunfire and explosions ring in your ears,
the sweet and metallic taste of blood carried by the wind becomes normal,
all you smell is the distinct and putrid smell of decaying flesh,
and all you see,
Chaos! ,
pure chaos, in its purist and most consuming form.

Some soldiers say ” Dulce et decorum est.”
but is say,
No More!