Whiplash

Nocturnal light from deadly suns
Illuminates my fate
Concussions all around me
In my trench I shake and wait
Nausea overwhelms me
The dead fill every space
They wait for resurrections
Bullets ripping past my face
I see the wounded falling
Grimaces they wore
Soldiers and civilians
They died the rich and poor
All are consumed by fire
Bodies turned to rags
Mothers only sons
Returned to them in bags
The final plan unfurled
No relief till all has died
The extinction of the world
In a blast of cyanide