Men are dying,
Their families crying,
Dead bodies lying,
Bomb's a'flying.
The machine guns a'blaze,
Putting soldiers in a daze.
Spending my trench days,
In a ray of haze.
New weapon's are scary,
The situation is hairy.
Now it's time to bury,
My poor brother Larry.
As part of History class in tenth grade I wrote this poem as if I was in world war one. I am now a Freshmen in College but I found this cleaning.