Pawn In a Chess Game

For to defend your home was your noble calling so off to war you had gone, leaving wife and family. Enemy you did not know, your job was just to fight; wicked men in the capital, picking friends from foes. You patrolled the desert among the palm trees until a bomb exploded right under your boots. And now you come home cold in a wooden coffin, flying in at past midnight that no one will see. Poor sacrificial pawn in the neocons’ scheme, died serving your leaders' diabolical chess game.