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Rated: E · Poetry · Military · #2209994
Men sacrificing themselves for their country.
Standing with my comrades, I look across the battlefield and see a brother. He is not my friend, he is the enemy.
Why? For my future? For our future? For his future?
But I must. For what? The future?

Terrified inside, proud outside.
Comrades, lead me, hold my hand bolster my heart.
My first step is excruciating, but I must go.
Steady, steady, step, step, stronger, stronger, faster, faster.
Death whispers at my ear, but I do not hear it. It stares into my eyes, but I do not see it.

Pride pushes me forth, blinding me to the fear.
Staccato sounds erupt, something sizzling comes close.
Men drop like wheat before the scythe.
My friends, my comrades, all are dying.

A burning pain grips my chest, searing, searing.
My coat turns red, my hands turn red.
I, I fall, to the waiting Earth.
My eyes see a friend die horribly, a comrade, a brother.

Fury ceases the burn.
Rising up I charge forward, I must, I must.
Charge, charge, kill, kill.
More pain, more agony, more red.
Why? Why,? for my future, for my future.

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