By: Reece Pemberton

In my story I’m about to tell,
Is about the men who fought and fell.
They put up with terrible sights,
And fought well in awful fights.

Few came home and most stayed there,
When I talk about war most don’t care.
There was one man, I forget his name,
He fired a flare but no one came.
He was in a crater for hours and days,
But when they found him he was in a daze.

Dead around him, he didn’t care,
For when enemy came he didn’t scare.
He was hostage in a terrible state,
But all he relied on was friends and fate.

When he got home after the war,
He found his house with no front door.
As there was no shelter, there was no more,
Then life around him began to fall.