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RazorICE

Fated Children, No Mercy, Wild Beasts

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Here are my poems I had to write for English homework. Please don't be too harsh, I know I suck, but still :rolleyes: it's not really that easy to write poems.

Note: Wild Beasts was written from sentences found in the book All Quiet On The Western Front by Erich Maria Remarque.

 

Fated Children

Turn, my Fated Children,

Watch and mourn for the helpless cries,

Watch the men and women die

Don't let them lie: war is terrible,

It''s not patriotic, it's murder

Weep, my Fated Children

Let the doves fly,

Let this war end

 

Don't fall, my Fated Children,

Don't let the bad men get you,

Don't let the tunnels collapse,

Stop the dying

Millions of souls rising to Heaven,

As the soldiers battle in Hell

 

Shattered cries, stabbing pains,

Charging into battle, ripping into shreds

The wounded, the dead,

The corpses, the lead

Sleep, my Fated Children

Wait for the end, the end of mourning,

The end of it all

Rise to Heaven, fly

 

No Mercy

With an evil smile, he slowly lifts his gun

Squeezing the trigger, as his victims run

Tripping, afraid to die, his victims weep and cry

Remorcilessly, he crushes hopes and dreams,

Shattering lives

 

The women and children, the elderly too

He sprays lead wildly ripping through

Silent screams, clutching hands

He never underestands

He has no mercy

 

Never tiring, he keeps on firing

Splattering red all on the floor

He doesn't care; it isn't fair

Ending lives, many hearts he tore

Hearts to love nevermore

 

Dying, killing, falling, tripping

Too much death, no mercy

 

Wild Beasts

His face has an expression of calm

He says nothing; he is entirely alone now

He still breathes, his face is wet

Alone

Thin, miserable, dirty

The hours pass quick if a man broods

The bones have not lasted out

Meaningless words, he is not the first

His eyes roll, it can't be helped

The others have turned pale

We have become wild beasts.

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not bad. yes, a little violent, but a whole lot better than i could ever write.extent of my poem-ness:there once was a young man named Crumb,who wouldn't stop chewing his gumhe chewed and he chewedtil his mouth was tight gluedand he walked around looking quite dumb.yes. see what i mean?

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It's not as bad as some I've heard:there once was a man named Enis,who had a very largefoot.And yes, I admit it's quite violent, but, well, we were meant to do war poems for English homework, you don't expect me to have done a love story for war...?

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