There it is.... middle class....

Here's the Dichter des Donnerstags update, but ... on Sunday! Enjoy!

Bright light?
No…just shellfire. Shellfire?!?
Battle! Fire! Wait!
People charging; boots tramping around me,
Foreign boots, alien boots,
On MY soil! How dare they?!
Closed eyes…they’re gone.

I can’t move. Why can’t I move?
Oh, God. There’s Smith. I can barely see half his face…
Why can’t I … oh, God, their blood, their blood!
Running over the ground, through my hair,
In rivulets across my cheeks…no, my blood?
My blood? That’s … right …
I was…

This was an exercise in voice. I'm not sure it worked out, but I still kind of like it. Reading it again makes me think it's a little too up-front, not enough subtlety... but I'm not sure. Any comments?