Bunker: poem by James Kavanagh (14)

Bunker

writer
writer

I wake in the rubble,

Memories flashing like a bolt,

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Just to remember my double,

Just to remain at a halt,

He lay dead.

Stone pierced like a sword,

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He lay on his bed,

Here comes the horde,

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I decide to run.

Stumbling through the town,

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I find a gun,

I decide not to bow down,

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Opening fire,

Closing in,

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The situation is dire,

I will correct my sin,

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As I just narrowly dodge,

I get attacked by a hound,

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It knocking me into my lodge,

making me fall to the ground,

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I duck and run,

The hound keeps trying,

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I shoot my gun,

The hound is dying,

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As I run into the light,

I hear friendlies chattering,

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I feel bright,

Even though I took a battering.

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By James Kavanagh (14)

Burnley