The Echoes of the Trench

The world has shrunk to this narrow strip of wet earth and grey sky.

Every breath is thick with the metallic scent of damp wool and cold iron.

The sky screams before it falls, shattering the morning silence with fire. In the chaos,

your brother's eyes are the only anchor left to hold. Fear is a

cold weight, but your legs move by instinct alone. We are buried

alive in mud, yet our hearts refuse to stop beating. You fight not

for the maps, but for the man beside you. Somewhere, far beyond the

wire, the world still dreams of home. Even here, in the mouth