Ghostly Rewind

 

The shadow creeps
across the weary battlefield
through the barbed wire
which frames the bloodletting

The Spector that mocks

our bunker mentality
is in reality
Death Incarnate

Carrying a putrid smell

of blood and mud

that brings tears to the eyes

of we pawns soon to die

You never see the bullet

Death crafts with your name on it

Just the whizzing sound

that struck me down

I awake trembling
in a cold sweat
from the haunting nightmare
of my former life
which ended tragically
on the stained fields of Flanders