No birds are tweeting.
I don’t know if I’ll survive.
My heart is beating.
But I’m still alive.
Artillery whistling from ahead.
I’m wishing I was at home in my bed.
Reloading my gun.
I’m having no fun.
I’m covered in blood.
As I wade through this mud.
I can’t bare this anymore.
I just want to go to sleep on the floor.
I’m sorry if this is a bore.
But everywhere on my body is sore.
I’m in a mud pit,
and none of my clothes fit.
I’m trying not to frown.
But my head is pointing down.
I have been shot.
Hopefully I won’t be forgot.
Now I am dying.
Thinking about my family, I am crying.