my poem bout war.

A man went to war today.He though he was ready, he wanted to win. He played with tiny soldiers when he was young. They never screamed or bleed. But when he was in war he became scared. The men wern't like his little toys. They screamed and cried. They bleed every where. Their screams echoed in the man's ears. Their tourched eyes stared and him pleading for help. The man was shot down, he cried and cried. He began to scream. Then he quitley said to him self,
"The plastic men never bleed, they never screamed. They stayed in there perfect forms. with blank faces. They died in my hand."
The man closed his eyes and took his last breath.