Gas

then came the gas, silent and deadly,

just a soft whump here or a thump there,

followed by swiftly rolling fog,

at first we weren’t even sure what was happening,

many started dropping before the thought

of donning a mask could even be thought;

it seemed like such an ironic, cruel twist

of fate, to have come so far, only to be destroyed by

such a thing as this;

everywhere men lay choking, gasping for breath,

their faces twisted in deadly agony,

those who managed to put on their masks

powerless to help, the burning of skin

hardly noticed by the joy of protected lungs and

internal organs, from this slow and

evil death;

I thought of Tukarov, I thought of my wife,

I thought of innocent little girls,

lying cold and limp in my trembling arms,

I thought;

such a waste,

such an incredible,

stupid waste;

who has won?

who has lost?

all I could do

was cry.

.

.