PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I stand on this boat as the operation begins

I pray to God to forgive me for all my sins

We approached the shore and Sarge yells Get Ready

I hold my trigger hand trying to keep it steady

With a crash the front gates open

The bullets let fly, our line was broken

To avoid the fire I jumped overboard

Abandoned my backpack and swam for shore

Now hiding behind a beach obstacle holding my head

My worst fear come true I will end up dead

My friends falling to the ground

The high pitch cry of mortar rounds

What an awful sound

The ocean before me was no longer the blue I knew, but red

A hazy red

A red of slaughter, a butcher's prime



I ran in, gun blazing trying to find my haven from the shower of iron but to no rest

And now a bullet dug itself into my chest

I felt as if I lost control of my legs and I hit the sand hard

The gentle waves lapped up against my side

After a couple of cries the Medic arrived

I lay in my own bloody tide

A shot of morphine as he did he work

He dug the knife into the wound and my head jerked

More morphine my eyelids sagged

They took my tag

And rolled out my bag

He put my roseries in my hand

And he layed my rifle in the sand

I took in my last breath

And I was taken by the Angel of Death