Remorse

Here is a World War I poem that I wrote. Try to figure out who the subject is, scroll down to the bottom to find out 🙂 – enjoy…

 

It’s crisp, the air.

Just after dawn, my time to shine.

Others were proud to go over the top,

Not me, I’m not a killer.

I’m soft, filled with yellow rays of happiness.

I can sense the general coming,

I feel his footsteps, fear strikes me.

The ground rumbles from his weight,

It makes me feel small, compressed.

I’m not meant to do this,

I could just live a normal life,

Make friends, have fun. Smile.

 

I’m shaken,

Up and down, up and down,

Rattled from end to end.

I prepare to go onto the battlefield.

Eins, dvei, drei – it’s time.

 

I am propelled over the barbed wire,

Soaring, flying like a bird.

I plummet to the ground,

My metal armor hitting the firmly packed dirt.

Plunk, plunk, plunk…

 

It explodes and I seep out.

Just like I was drilled to do,

I slither across the ground, like a snake.

The wind is on my side, we’re allies.

It drives me.

I come closer to the enemy ground,

I want to stop and turn around,

Escape is my only thought,

I want to shed my skin and hide.

Closer and closer I come,

To the enemy trenches.

No lookout, not a single guard.

A perfect sneak attack waiting to happen.

 

Here’s my cue – I swivel through the zigzags,

Unnoticed… for now.

I creep against sleeping soldiers,

Target and aim, target and aim.

I’ve covered the frontline, poor fellows…

I’m sorry.

 

Face to face with a soldier,

He’s pale as a sheet, frozen like a statue.

I want him to run, I wish I could help.

He’s hyperventilating, breathing deeper and deeper,

Tears collect under his eyes

He’s scared of me, the German monster.

 

I’m sorry, I’m sorry – I’ve never felt this much remorse

But I’ve never been this alive.

Mouth to mouth, nose to nose

He is breathing hard against me,

He gulps his last breath – Auf Wiedersehen

 

More bodies plunge to the dirt,

I am pathetic; man has made me a killer.

Forgive me, please. Please forgive me.

I travel deeper into the trench, until I’m spotted.

I am stolen from my thoughts – I can only linger.

Whistles go crazy, men take cover,

They hide from me, the monster.

I manage to escape this deadly scene,

It’s a graveyard on exhibit.

I start to dissipate,

All that lingers in my head,

Are the cries of the soldiers:

Gas, gas, gas…

Who is the subject ? (highlight to see answer) : Mustard Gas, I used personification to give the gas human-like characteristics and to give the poem a unique twist 🙂 

By : Purple Pansy

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