Patriot’s Hell: poem by James Kavanagh
Patriot’s Hell
I have turned hollow,
Mankind will slowly age,
Among the trees of sorrow,
I will slowly turn the page.
Running through the sand,
Bombs whistling left and right,
Having to follow command,
I have to stand and fight.
Shots flying all around,
Some people falling with no head,
I soon follow without a sound,
“Am I really dead?”
I wake up in a bed,
The shot went deep,
I should be dead,
I should be asleep.
I have turned hollow,
Among the trees of sorrow.
By James Kavanagh (14)
Burnley