patrolling through the wasteland <br />me and my platoon do go <br />when as of thin air lethal steel appeared <br />my men and i dropp to the dirt <br />lying flat to avoid being shot <br />i raise my rifle and squeeze the trigger <br />a loud report meets my ears <br />and a cry escapes my victim and i burst into tears <br />how can we do this to other men <br />to those who lived just as i live now <br />and then one of my comrades fall in the dirt <br />the gunshots pierced all but his faith <br />he prays to his god in hopes of afterlife <br />then composing the words ill say at his grave <br />i take aim without flinching remembering to be brave <br />pull the trigger and listen to the whistles of all the gunshots<br /><br />Michael Stevens<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/gunshots-2/
