Tweet Repeat 80

The bombs interspersed the troops,
Threw them, made them loop-de-loop.
Scattered to the four winds,
Shattered like pounded flint.

Some got up in dribs'n'drabs,
Numbers cut like pounds of flab.
A patchwork with pieces missing,
No longer so neatly fitting.

Some troops moved forward and waited,
For the next rain so heavily weighted.
Ever on moved this incessant gamble,
That made some run, some only amble.