The deadly cloud

First you see it,

a swirling mist of doom.

Then you hear their cries

those soldiers consumed by death

what should I do?

March forth to a misty death,

or back to a coward's death?

Soon you smell it,

the rancid churning cloud.

The odours of a thousand men,

caught in its' damp and deadly grip.

Now you know you can't escape

the cold,gloomy,pointless end,

suffered by so many before you.

finally you feel it,

the debris of the cloud of death.

Peppers you with stones, bullets and rocks,

with legs, feet and arms and hands,

and worst of all, the eyes and ears,

of those who went before,

keeping their eternal watchon the victims of the cloud.