Poem -
Mother
Run away, son, from the war
and save yourself
for friends are killing friends
your contribution will be death
your reward a medal
on your wounded breast.
The smell of suffering
stopped with the last word of his breath:
'Mother...!'
Â
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Comments
Left such a sad taste in my mouth...nice write ?
I understand, Marion... Sorry. I live in Flanders Fields. The war was cruel, like all wars. They all cried for their mam.