There in the darkness, the eyes of madness drilled into our hearts, the way they did in the old days, the kind of madness who made you drink and you didn’t even thank them.
Politicians, sitting in the blood of victims of gross misunderstanding, campaigned on the backs of dead babies, untruths, close their eyes and they can see the truth, up their ass!
Silence in the rain, the thunder deafened us to the madness that was around us, explosions tearing us from this mortal realm, was this the end?
We were saddened by the times; war was a madness, in its own right, and here we stood, eyeing the ground, seeing the blood soak into the ground.
We moved forward, ever forward, where no man would live, were no man should dare try to cross, there, at the river’s edge, dear blessed mother, did we cross, the bullets flying, each man moving forward, this was the end, right here, we would live, or we would die, there was no in-between.
I was in the front, pressing forward, the mad men, our enemies, charging forward, toward us, I saw his eyes, as my bullet ripped through his heart, a fellow man, my age, my height.
I could not cry, care, even dare think of him as a human life, march forward, to kill, for the father, the mother, even my dear wife, our unborn child, for the country.
I drove forward, driven by the madness, to kill or to be killed.
I did not want to die, not there, on that field, to have my blood wasted into some piece of land.
January 12th would not be the day I would die; not this year, I would keep fighting, killing, memories, faces to haunt my dreams when I was older, to think about it, to have my mind ripped apart.
But that would be later, now I was a hero, valor in honor on the battle field, 17 confirmed kills, a promotion in rank, soon, I’d be leading my own troops into glory, the end of all wars, till that next one that would roll into the next.
Smiling politicians, shaking hands, kissing babies, for glory of the Nation, weeping for the dead, but they died, they would say, the politicians, for that glory.
Not for some company’s oil rights or mineral rights but for peace.
“If Jesus was alive, he would approve of our use of force against these, terrorists, for lack of a better word!” some politician said from the television screen, his face faked tan, to match his fake patriotism.
If Jesus was alive…
But he was dead, in some field, he died for somebody’s sins, but not mine.
Thou shall not kill.
Words printed on paper, I guess, it didn’t matter, I was Death, to march forward, ever forward, for God and Country.
I was the weapon to be used, like any other weapon, to kill.
Death to those enemies of the state, unless they provide death to the state.
It was the only thing that mattered.
If Jesus was alive…
WANDERING WHERE I AM GOING! 