A dreary night of inferno--1941

noises of bullets and hand grenades came flying as one.

The moon lit nearing midnight,

of course it's the time of freight.

I found myself anxiously descending the wooden staircase,

I feel my brows dampen as my heart race.

Taking one last step from this wooden step,

to the numbing cold of the cement.

I knew someone there sensed,

my weary-vulnerable presence.

Then came a spine-chilling radio-crack,

"Abort, abort!" it said with a manic crack.

There and there I heard of nothing,

but hurried footsteps as it sounds escaping.

A long second passed silence ruled then followed the sky,

dropping frenzied screech in my ear like a wandering fly.

All in the darkness came white and last of me remember,

neighboring plank woods, and rooftops are in ashes from an ember.

I knew then and there in my slumber,

that war is over.

Times passed I knew after all my eyes were blinded,

by a droplet of explosion which costed me a life-time incapacitated.

I thought with all-hell surpassed I have finally met freedom,

yet still I died sitting in this dark park of boredom.

There on my last anxious sighs seated blindly on a warm wooden bench,

beside a cold-cemented statue of a false hero drenched.

Nearing midnight I knew I heard in my mind,

Uttering a hungry cry saying that "war is blind!"