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Poetry from within


Am trained to the highest am one of the best I work in line of eternal rest,

I see my position way up high, as I climb the stairs I fear this is where Iíll die,

The enemy advances from the fields below, through the sight of my rifle I see the fear they show,

Alone in the tower I gather my thoughts, thinking all of those who died by my shots,

I pick up my rifle and tighten my grip, look through the sights until my bullet hit,

These men I hit fall to the floor, their duty ended their life no more,

I saw a soldier on open ground aim a s shot in his leg then he falls to the ground,

He holds his hand on his open wound as I can hear his crying sound,

To his men that are hiding behind the hedge, I can hear him plead I can hear him beg

On the ground I used him as bait, I reloaded my rifle then sat and wait,

From the bushes I saw his friend, a shot of death I aim and send,

No sorrow now pity I do not feel, I aim and fire and watch another keel,

Am forced into cover from incoming rounds, wishing my hands over my ears to stop the deafening sound,

I aim and shoot and watch another fall, no cry of pain no dying call,

Soldiers from both sides lie in heaps, as I reload weapon I see my side retreat,

The enemy advances in the streets below, I have no choice I have no where to go,

I have no choice but to stay and fight, killing the men I see in my sight,

A burning pain I feel in my chest, I have no choice but to sit and rest,

The stairs foot steps draw near, my fate in this war will soon be clear,

The soldier advances I look into his eyes, he raises his rifle but I do not cry, but am ready to lay down and die,

Gordon Bruce