Breathe
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Author:
Poem:		42220
Breathe in the cold, wet air, Breathe out hot, and humid drops. Hear the wildly blowing trumpet, Hear the feet running into the rank lines. This is the day, This is the last. Run along the drenched, trodden down path, Run over the roots and rocks. See the trench in which to fight, See the commander turn on a light. This is the day, This is the last. Crawl into the ditch at last, Crawl over the other people. Smell the smoke and the powder, Smell the old, rotten cloth. This is the day, This is the last. Breathe in the thick oxygen, Breath out disgusting smog. Hear the cries in the thincket, Hear your own heart beating. This is the day, This is the last. Run away from the guns, Run away from the war. See the gun firing, See the blood running. This is the day, This is the last. Crawl low, away from the battle, Crawl into the pitch dark, blackness. Feel the death creeping over you, Feel your own heart stop beating in your chest. This is the day, This is the last. It has taken your breath, It has taken your life.
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