Mousie's monthly poetry contest

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The bloodshot sky hung high above,
as soldiers cried for the lost they loved,
The clanging bells of death and doom,
Echoed around their makeshift tomb.
A Jerry, a Tommy both the same,
promised glory in an old mans game.

A famous life that's what they thought,
instead, their bodies left to rot.
and those who are still alive,
grotesque images of their friends demise.
A crescendo of drums and we join a queue,
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