This is another poem that I wrote during my Creative Writing classes in college, and another attempt at a sonnet.
Flags are clashing, flying through air,
Around a field of death and pain.
Peculiar looks, they’re full of fear,
Fathers wont see their sons again.
Another shot, another dead,
A field becoming drenched in blood.
This is where boys are forced to be men,
Trying to be brave and not to run.
Give Haste! The order has been blown,
To take the wounded and leave the site.
Focus now on how no one knew
Just how many would die tonight.
Tomorrow, the mothers will cry,
Carrying pictures of sons who died.