A rumbling,
Echoes across the shattered wasteland
Acid snow drifts in the caustic air
Past my helmet visor.

My gas filter rattles
As I **** in the foul air,
The next wave is coming
Great war machines,
Chugging slowly toward our battered dugouts.

And for what?
A body of unpolluted water
Barely wide enough to step over,
Or a tiny stretch of untainted farmland.

I sit in my ramshackle bunker
With my comrades,
Checking my rifle one last time,
Knowing in my heart, that we
Can't push back the next assault.

I sit silently cursing my ancestors,
For leaving me this god-forsaken legacy
For shattering my Earth.

As the first shells start to fall.