Row after shuffling row,
man after tired man.
Here for one purpose,
here for one thing.
Aim, wait, fire.
Blood and cries,
filling minds.
The repulsive thought of
taking away another man’s life.
Gnawing on their sanity.

Trembles and gasps,
men barley having strength
to put one blistered foot
in front of the other.
Sweat and tears,
blocking weary eyes.
Stumbling and falling
over the long, wicked roots
of the green monster.
Men sobbing; shaking violently,
others as quiet as a dead man.

You can hear the crunch and snaps,
the pleads of fallen men
too far gone to help.
Boot covered feet marching over
Fallen soldiers.
Lines in order,
steps in sink.
Just like they were taught.

Making way to meet death,
dirty fingers clutching dirty weapons.
Holding on,
afraid of letting go.
Fearing life could expire at
any moment.