Light years from help, we were lost in another world called the ****. Our split-second decisions meant the difference between living or dying, and out here, out here on the fringes, we were the law, the lions.
We had the power to end the synapses called life, it was our occupation & it was a simple-process, the hardest part was making up your mind. Once done, it was just a click to autopilot to slit a neck & watch the blood flow.
Goat herders & shoe shine boys, farmers & elders, all were potential enemies, but the consequences of media could disrupt your decisions & many times it did, it cost warriors their own lives to make clueless-others think war is bed of roses.
A poem based on the book βThe Lone Survivorβ by Marcus Lutrell