Poetry

The Chill

The chill of the wind making my soldiers stand to attention
Clatters and pummel at the heads of the soldiers
Fighting for freedom yet getting torn apart.
Holes are formed within the formation
Exposing vulnerabilities and the harshness
The winter is pressing down on the men.
Fighting to survive: The elements
And the war,
Which keep pushing harder and harder
On the guineapigs which are left in the firing line.
The line of fire for the elements and enemies.
No alliances in the weather.
No alliances in the war.
Just suffering.