I creep upon a village, with murder in my heart.

I hear footfalls all around me, my soldiers spread apart.

 

Morning mist surrounds us, the Kush fields drip with fear.

My stomach churns with anguish, each sound screams in my ear.

 

The village walls loom closer, a rampart must be cleared.

The gravel drags across my chest, my breath is fast with fear.

 

At last the wall confronts us, soldiers go left and right.

A dog’s shrill bark sounds out, before the morning light.

 

A foreign scream resounds, Allahu Akbar fills the night.

His Kalashnikov spits death, the bullets strike and smite.

 

A balance has been broken- the firefight screams out.

I shoot at moving shadows, my medic hears a shout.

 

RPGs boom with vengeance, machine guns chase the dead.

Bullets seek my life, leaves fall from overhead.

 

I run the line with gunfire, the soldiers shoot with glee.

Finally the fight is over, it’s oh-five thirty-three.

 

I walk with my commander, we look upon the dead.

Screaming are the wounded, smoldering is a head.

 

My work here is finished, the prisoners are rounded up.

My Afghans want to kill them- praying, I hold them up.

 

Over by the village wall, a woman shrieks and wails.

A girl with emerald clothing knows what death entails.

 

Lord, spare me the horror, this disease known far and wide.

Beneath the chest of every man,

A killer lurks inside.