I hear the self-center sonic nature of a soldier’s personal history written in a letter home to his mother
The kill or be killed emotional knowledge of being conscious of the speed of a bullet
The quite moments stolen amidst the fields of war
What is learn and unlearn about killing is never kept on hold
The thought to save the self and the brotherhood of the unit living its collected lives where the combatants have taken the streets
The solder’s hunger for war rises above the danger
They are not afraid or so it appears as they with weapons drawn pass the few who tell them not to go to where the winds of war blows across the bombed landscape of abandoned automobiles in the of a daily life raising in a rushing forward from the soon to be dead bodies of a bloody street
War is the sacrifice of the young
The 23 years old PFC and those others barely in their 20s the spatter of cut short lives of the young dries to stain the streets
We weep for their bravery that overtake their self-centeredness and they paid the price that they are call to do
To take up arms for an ideal embodied in the ideal of a flag of a country they die for our ideals of ourselves our way of life steep within the bullet chamber cocked for self defense
