The sky is clear yet the monstrous thunder cracks still, the left of us have learned by now to never raise our eyes above the hill.

We beat the dawn and fear the night, the dreary boredom pervades the soulless fight.

The ads said glory, the people said fame, but now all to see is a pointless game.

The trenches are our fortress, our protection , our curse; and the black veil of death could not in hell be worse.

I often think of home and those I left behind, the warm happy memories of those days preserves my mind.

The endless rain of bullets and the gut-wrenching smell of gas, combine with the constant shriek of shattering glass.

The pain and the horror of these men and I, would cause those with even the most iron will to plead to the sky.

We had plenty in the start, but which soon became want, and the claws of hunger continue to haunt.

The men like rats and the rats like men, we fight our foe, we find our friend.

With our hearts of stone we sink to the Earth, and the night terrors theive the mind of peace, henceforth.

Then we stand to with the hate of the morn, and blast to the empty with minds torn.

Those sent into no-man's-land were pitied, for they ran quickly to their deaths indeed.

These men are my comrades, these men are my brothers, and I would give my life for them to go home to their fathers and mothers.

Miles and miles of scarred land shudders, as if mother Earth weeps with heart asunder.

In the words of solider Siegried Sassoon, "Sensous frontline is here, hateful and repellent, unforgettable and inescapable," yet no devil can take our spirits.

WE ARE UNBREAKABLE.