The Camp

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An active location, bustling with action, 

Where sirens call in the time, 

And the sound of boots play all around. 

 

Young faces, eager and enthusiastic, 

All looking fit and fine, 

Occupied the makeshift tents in the camp. 

 

Some, were new, some experienced, 

But they all had two things in common

That they shared and loved. 

 

The pain of being separated from the families, 

And the joy of serving the motherland, 

Bonded these boys, who shared a bond of brotherhood. 

 

On one day break, was heard a sound, 

That turned the lively camp

Into the most brutal sight ever. 

 

The tents were torn and

Smoke arose from all over, 

As mutilated bodies lay strewn. 

 

Suitcases, made of metal, 

Opened up throwing around, 

Burnt letters, photos and uniforms. 

 

The camp that once echoed laughters, 

Was doomed in smoke and dust, 

With none around to even weep. 

 

A search operation came over, 

To check for any breath around, 

Alas… it wasn’t a living camp anymore. 

Photo by Museums Victoria on Unsplash

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