Writing On The Wall

Abandoned works and creative writing pieces.


4. Deep Sea of Pity

~ Chapter IV ~

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'Deep Sea of Pity'

Inspired by the most famous First World War poet, Wilfred Owen.


A deafening silence lingered among us,

Our tiresome men, they'd fought hard,

The old commander, he was taken by a shell.

Sure enough, these times were hell,

Our frantic gaze mimicked that of the dead,

Not blinking and drowning in dread,


Silence, quiet silence,

Silence so strong that it meddled with our minds,

I forgot about the true horrors I'd seen that day,

I forgot how to breathe a breath,


"Gas! Gas!" cried a young soldier,

It was the boy from the farm on old park lane,

Gas masks put on, but one lost in vain,

And so the green mist consumed the air,

He panicked in a stampede of terror,

Until, all became still,

The limp body crashed to the ground,

Buried in a sea of slime,

For us lot, so paralyzed from our sights,

The commotion was over until he cried in the night,

Chocking, babbling, shaking and... life,

We floundered out our beds, bounding for the door,

The musky smell of bleach drifted unhindered,

Hell, was this in the depths of midwinter,

He cried and yelled but only a whisper fell,

Shrieking air so cold and bitter,

I remembered the birds and their soft flutter,

But his throat, oh how it swelled like pumpkins,

We watched him like the wolves were hunting,

Our legs were wet with the sky's tears,

All through the night we were haunted by fears,


But by morning, you need not ask,

Dead, was the man with no gas mask.  




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