A song

The flowers have gone where the soldiers went,
Not to home but to dreary graves,
Those days are past, the dead are dust,
The poppies still bloom to droop,
The weapon gathers no rust.

Scream II

A silent scream exploded in my brain,
It cleaved my senses apart and charred them in brisk fire,
My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth as the walls came tumbling down,
And the world like a milky bubble of space came  undone-
I turned into many as I became none.