American Soldier

The night is cold,
The air is still,
All are nervous,
We’ll fight to kill.

The moon is shining,
My arms are tense,
They are coming,
This is my chance.

A chance for honor?
Or a chance for glory?
No, for love and for happiness,
For Life, and for Liberty.

I see their faces,
Their stony eyes,
We’re fighting to win,
Or die otherwise.

I’m at the front,
I take my aim,
My gun fires loud,
This isn’t a game.

The noise is loud,
Cannons booming,
Men shouting,
Demons pursuing.

Retreating fast,
I stumble and slip,
My arms are flailing,
I feel slightly sick.

My heart races,
My stomachs twirling,
I hit the ground,
I feel like hurling.

My hands are trampled,
I lay flat on my back,
Men stumble past me,
I hear a loud crack.

Pain surges over me,
My eyes start to water,
I try to stand up,
Wishing for Father.

My head hurts,
My hearts pounding,
A bullet strikes me,
My eyes start clouding.

The pain is unbearable,
It hurts too much,
I collapse to the ground,
In need of a crutch.

I lay there quietly,
As it begins to snow,
I begin to pray,
For what, I don’t know.

The dark enfolds me,
Oh, sweet peace,
The pain is receding,
It begins to cease.

-Bri