War poem

The hiss of gas,
the sound of guns,
were back where it was all begun.

Random terrorists in the streets,
we suffer nothing but defeat after defeat,
The place, the time,
this whole thing is a faceless ryme moving through the cosmos.

shoulder my rifle,
take a quick drink,
another second to live another second to think.

I don't know who I am just why i'm here,
I'm a soilder,
ready to die for you my dear.