• This was always how it was going to end
• Rot
• Gore in mud
• I never left the trenches
• The mud clung to my boots
• No one goes home
• Our heartbeats are replaced with marching chants
• There is no song among gunfire
• There is no escape from the gas
• There is no escape from the rot and vermin
• This is always how it was going to end
• There is no horizon for a twice slain man in a twice dug grave
• Shall I weild my sabre against a tank?
• My misfiring rifle against a flamethrower?
• No one dies quietly
• I want to go home