All Quiet on the Western Front Chapters 1-3 Analysis

Author’s Note: I tried to write this poem from the point of view of a soldier going about his day while including a common motif I found. Despite the fact that he knows he has a job to fulfill and lives to protect, he’s held back by the guilt he feels and he’s reminded of it every time he looks at his hands that are stained red by the blood of the deceased.

I wake up

My dreams have fled

I’m in reality

With my hands stained red.

I’ve lost my appetite

Despite the bread

It’s not savory

With my hands stained red.

I head out

Through the mud I tread

My head hangs low

With my hands stained red.

“We’ll fight till we win”

The sergeant said

So I hold my gun

With my hands stained red.

I help my friend

He’s already dead 

I lay him down

With my hands stained red.

I can’t sleep

I lay in dread

It won’t ever leave

With my hands stained red.

So I stay put

Wrapped in bed

And wipe the tears

With my hands stained red.