Poem -

Post Traumatic

Post Traumatic

He said red lips
were not so red..
I read what was said..
But didn't hear..
till the battle
raged near..
poor Wilfred..
locked in Craiglockheart..
and sentĀ  for dead
back to the Front
of pure hatred..
I am too shell shocked..
he saidĀ  its sweet, its not.
it's just some strategic plot
of the have and have not got
and the greed of men
who don't care shot
for dulce et decorum est
is beyond their lot

Ā 

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