charging into combat
with our nearly emptied guns
damaged armor
and honor under the violent sun
holding our hope
the battle can still be won

the souls of bullets ringing in my ears
the smell of smoking powder
filling my lungs
I have unwittingly become
a tried man amongst his peers
notwithstanding
the weary looks and leers

artificial clouds and rain dance overhead
dreams of love become the thinnest spread over fields of pride
I'm still hungry
though full of water and bread
shrapnel memories left in stead
as my blood bleeds a trail of red

the inglorious mutter
"it's foolish to have fought this war"
still
we march on
through the pain and gore
holding thoughts in our heads
and feelings evermore
hearts that never stop beating
though ever sore