Grins pulled wide, shoulders back-
Ready to fight.
Polished and preened,
To perfection
Lined up- the artillery
Those conditioned kamikazes.

And with his corpulent grip,
The major plucked one from his pile,
And he thanked him so graciously,
With a gross exuberance
And forced his way into the barrel of his pistol,
The Union Jack pulled over his eyes
He lay lame obsequiously
And accepted this finality with
Timorous alacrity.

Enemy in sight, he caressed the trigger,
As his hand shook violently,
From the palpitating mortal bullet
Convulsing within his fingers.
A malicious crimson corrupted his pupils
And with total apathy
He fired the gun.

And in that moment the soldier knew,
He wouldn’t be returning home;
As the fragments of metal pierced his chest.
That fleshy mound unearthed.
So the green pastures from which he came,
Could continue to grow.
Spluttering-gargling- the blood of every soldier.

Forever equal in the eyes of war.