we digged our graves
deep below the ground

a stench rotten pit,
vermin and piled bodies,
waiting to be found  

we looked and somehow prayed under
the blue skies

when will this be over?

I write this letter
for the hero who kills
and who were killed
enlisted, constricted
with no door to find their way out

Western Front,
the only location we have on the map

go south
and wave the banner
with our weapons,
as if we are proud

we needed to move forward
and pull the trigger,
to bring home the red stain that will
never be washed from our clean hands

Home, we are welcomed and embraced
banners, and cheers
plaques of gold
for being one of the brave men

is it courageous; living in a dead body
that just happened to survived?