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About This Poem
The Infil
The Blackhawk trims the sands,
flying nap of the earth.
A covert trip into the badlands,
with bad intentions we show
our worth.
I chew my gum and take it all
in,
as the rotors slap the sky.
I look at the faces of my
brothers and friends,
a nod, a grin, the meaning
implied.
We pass the point of no return,
the adrenaline begins to do it's
work.
A feeling that I will always
yearn,
just one of the unknown perks.
With rucksack and weapon still
I am there.
An awesome feeling for those
who dare.
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