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He carries his life with himself,
And bullets to fill, once he’s done,
Water is measured in gulps rather than liters,
He witnesses his own friends’ burn.
He is sleep deprived,
Physically and mentally tired,
He fights with himself to save his life,
He finds;
Killing is the only key to survive.
He dunks down, rolls around,
Is bruised and tattered,
His meaning about life, all shattered,
But his eyes know where his enemies can be found.
He aims with his one eye closed,
Finger ready to pull the trigger,
With one pull, one falls,
The count keeps on growing bigger.
He cannot afford to relax,
He knows about the price,
Death can come from any direction,
And he’ll not know until his flesh is sliced.
That’s the ultimate thing,
The ultimate price,
Heroic is how his death will be described,
Twenty one guns to the sky,
Takes him high, high above,
But what about his family?
What about his love?
					
-	Avee Hang

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