the gunshots sound pitilessly
leaving nothing in their aftermath
but his void roar
and the ground,
glowing with the redness
of his dead brother's blood

he's wounded too, but
he does not expect saving
or medical care
(nor does he want it)

i watch him from afar
as he falls;
with his knees on the bombtrodden street
(one that resembles one he once called his home,
but he has no home now,
only blood, and
violence) and
he gives in to death the moment he sees me

[they taught us not to look the enemy in the eye,
but a second before I pull the trigger, I break the
holiest of rules, and I see a soul just as lost as mine]