Three Klicks from the ruins we found him: face down.
Thirsty sand drank his blood which had darkened the ground.
He may once have been handsome, but now there’s no trace-
A large caliber slug exited through his face.
He had been an interpreter in the second Gulf war.
When the Americans left he was needed no more.
There were signs he’d been tortured; burns on his bare chest.
His arms tied behind him; that’s how he'd been left.
He’d been tortured and murdered to settle some score.
Only the dead see the end of this war.