Gunshots Poem by Michael Stevens

patrolling through the wasteland
me and my platoon do go
when as of thin air lethal steel appeared
my men and i dropp to the dirt
lying flat to avoid being shot
i raise my rifle and squeeze the trigger
a loud report meets my ears
and a cry escapes my victim and i burst into tears
how can we do this to other men
to those who lived just as i live now
and then one of my comrades fall in the dirt
the gunshots pierced all but his faith
he prays to his god in hopes of afterlife
then composing the words ill say at his grave
i take aim without flinching remembering to be brave
pull the trigger and listen to the whistles of all the gunshots