In response to Slaughterhouse Five Chapter 3 (page 27-35)
Poem
(Billy Pilgrim's perspective; captured by the Germans)
Prisoner of War
Fear in the sounds around me
A slight movement of a branch near by
Or ferocious sounds far away
Wanting to let go, to stop, to find someone to surrender to
And maybe I should have
Before they got me
Now
I am a prisoner of war
Two young German boys and a middle aged commander
Those are the ones who came for us
They searched us
For any weapons which I did not have
But still feeling disarmed
Then we walked and walked
And we stopped once we saw the others who were captured
I am a prisoner of war
Nobody talked
Nobody thought of anything
There was nothing to say and nothing to think of
Staring into the flames of a small fire
Tears in my eyes
Miserable with fear
In a river of humiliation
I am a prisoner of war
Surrounded by violent, windburned, bristly soldiers
Dragon's teeth, killing machines, corpses with ivory and blue feet
Death everywhere I could see
So it goes
Never not scared for my life
I want to let go, stop this
Pain and hurt
I am a prisoner of war
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