They run up and down the trail,
They wait for incoming mail.
They have to cut their hair,
All of this is too much to bare.
They get yelled at to their face,
They march at an unfamiliar pace.
They rappel down the muddy wall,
Which they say is five stories tall.
They sleep in a small bed with no heater,
But then the day comes when they climb the Grimm Reaper.
They will serve this great nation,
But for now they're at Graduation.
Now they march looking lean and mean,
And you'll know that he truly is a U.S. Marine.
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Comments about this poem (Boot Camp by Quinn Callahan )
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