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People dying,
lovers crying,
where motionless bodies are lying.
all because of stupid bullets flying.

blood, bombs, guns and guts
cowardly soldiers hiding in handmade huts.
powered b hatred for a friends death.
maybe even happy its not over yet.
hoping to do something that in time they’ll regret.

Its suddenly silent, the silence of the dead.
the war maybe over but it replays in my head.
why didn’t i die? my friends did instead.
thinking and crying as i lay on my bed
i just keep on thinking of the horrible colour red.

by Sarah Keo

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