Anzac Poem!
Sitting in the trenches.
Sand bags sitting patently next to me.
My helmet sitting on my head.
The smoke flying like a bird.
The gas exploding like power in the sky.
Mud soaking up the water like a starw
The pick axe eating the mud as I swing.
Standing buildings crumbling down.
Trees swing like the wind.
Trenches lying on the ground like vaindes.
War is my whole life now!
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