Beyond the masks of life,
Few men fight, to survive.
Our smiles , our lives come at a cost,
Paid not in coin , inked with blood,
Some battles won, some battles lost.

He ties his shoes, tightens his vest,
Ready as always to lay in eternal rest.
He kisses his AK , wears it across,
His parents bless him in his thoughts.

He lifts the fuse plug, ties it to his waist,
Remembering his Gods, he makes no haste.
His comrades bid him adieu,
A bond beyond blood ties them through.

The night... Still as water,
Sings to him,like flame to the moth.
A fine collection to its library,
Lives which it has already claimed.

He makes his way,
Through jungles new.
Bravery in his blood,
His forefathers smiling through the skies blue.

An unexpected noise, his breadth stops,
He clutches the AK tightly,
The wheel of time comes to a halt.
Shadows appear from the dark,
Four legs , wiggling tail and a friendly bark.
The pack surrounds him in no time,
Some friends at last,
A company through the night.

The devil bows to the brave,
The night shows the path engraved.
The destination now within his grasp,
He breathes a sigh of relief, at last.

Smiles, hugs and drinks welcome him through,
From a man to a warrior, among his crew.
The commanding officer wishes to speak,
How many of the bold,
Crawled under the devil's cheek.
Recollecting the boy says ' SEVEN...',
The call drops before he can say a word new.

He looks all around,
The pack is nowhere to be found.
But inked in his mind,
Are their memories bold and refined.

As he recites his tale to me,
Seven years have now gone.
I can still live through his eyes,
The tale of the 'SEVEN MEN',
He will carry to the grave along.....