in a stately cog
a honcho making earmarks
fine stance
weighing scruples
of two disparate thoughts--
to pull the trigger or
indulge in proselyte
lifeless bodies
ignite more ire
although disinclined
firing back is but
an instinctive reply
the land where green grasses
stand is reek of
nameless carcasses
what choices do you
think he have?
now a verdant is in
the billet of veterans
no light to buoy his
already worried eyes
in a combat zone
discretion writhes
when a bullet passes you by
or have claimed a life beside
one's left with no choice
but to return the fire