PTSD (Remove filter)
Ricochet
Shells fly overhead,
dust kicking up in the air
filling the lungs,
and choking the life
from the blank eyes.
Staring up wide eyed and teary
as the life slips away,
Laying there bare to the bone
stripped of the soul
lost to the sea of dust and rubble
laying underfoot of the building
...
Saturday 3rd February 2018 12:58 am
Recent Comments
Trevor Alexander on Favorite Poet
1 hour ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Just Smile!
3 hours ago
Graham Sherwood on Just Smile!
3 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Start Monday
5 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on When Tyrants Fall
6 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on The 'Perfect Son'
6 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on BLUE PLAQUE FOR YOUR MP
6 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on BLUE PLAQUE FOR YOUR MP
6 hours ago
Stephen Atkinson on The Poem Of Life
8 hours ago
Martin Elder on Call me soon
9 hours ago