Disappear

For my group english project I had to write a poem comprised of quotes from to book (with some editing, adding on, and changing so that it made sense and flowed) from the book All Quiet on the Western Front, by Erich Maria Remarque. Mine's based on the theme of the lost generation:

The front: we become on the instant human animals.
We are insensible dead men, who through some dreadful magic are still able to run and to kill.
Beyond this our life does not extend.
A few years ago we would have despised ourselves terribly.
Now it is all a matter of habit.
Our early life was cut off from the moment we came here.
We stood on the threshold of life,
But now we only know that in some strange and melancholy way we have become a waste land.
We cannot sleep,
Our pierced and shattered souls bear the torturing image of the brown earth with the convulsed and dead soldiers.
At first astonished, then embittered, and finally indifferent,
We became hard, suspicious, pitiless, vicious, tough-and that was good.
If your own father came over with them you would not hesitate to fling a bomb at him.
Dead, dead, dying, and we live.
A generation of men who may have escaped the shells, but were destroyed by the war.
The war swept us away.
When we go home, we might exist there, but should we really live there?
No, I believe we are lost.