Confusion Of Enemies: WWI

This trench ruined me
   My body, my nerves, my soul
Boots slammed into muddy depths
Only to see the Frenchman’s piercing eyes
With my weighty bayonet, the heavy wooden sleek smoothness
Pierced the Frenchman’s chest
L o n g
L  o  n  g
I watched him
Suffer in that disease infested trench
He gurgled up blood in the rain
He hacked up guts in the sun
He cried
   Beside my bones.
After days, I put him out of his misery
After days, I carefully unfolded his information—
   His life.
   His wife.
   The picture of his three children.
   His address.

He is the same as I am.
He is a man.

I sat with the rats in the trench, and shook with madness,
As my hands scribbled an apology addressed to his home
For his death.

He was not alone.
I died that day too.

What was I to do?


About laurenfedorko

Aspiring writer. English teacher. Philosophy: know more about the world than you did yesterday and lessen the suffering of others.
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