“Friendly Fire”
Battered remnants of the soldier’s heart
scattered across the trampled field
his rifle shaking in his quivering hands
the wood and metal tool for killing
soggy with sweat drops to the grass
bodies lie motionless strewn all about
some with mouths open and blood dripping out
all their eyes still wide and pleading for mercy
in this hell there is never ever any mercy
this is not a love story of a glorious hero
finding his dream gal on his return back home
no because his mind is poisoned now
the things he has seen going well with
the lies, screams, pleas, and bullshit he was told
there will be no killing unless we are provoked
settling on a certain spot is provocation enough
as he stands weary upon the blood red sand
questions fill his aching head
what is our oil doing underneath their land
where are the weapons that were talked about
for what greater good
does corporal Jennings have a bullet in his head
why did Mrs. Foster give away three children
and tell me honestly if you can
what the fuck is she going to do
with three folded American flags
one weekend every month
two weeks every year
can that really prepare you
for the burden they make you bear
and since when does the nation we guard
extend across an entire ocean
and since when does the nation we guard
allow genocide and not call it a crime
battered remnants of the soldier’s heart
strewn across his letters home
standing in the center of the aftermath
the wasteland of a battlefield
our hero turns his rifle around
rips the flag off his jacket
and joins his comrades upon the sand…..

 
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