It's excitment, not a chill,

Spreading through my viens,

I'm needing, waiting, for the thrill,

Of blowing someones brains,

I haven't yet, I've never done,

I'm fresh out of the training,

Looking for that unlucky one,

Then hope for lucky aiming,

Indulged in playing Reaper,

I did not see the rest,

And the pain will go much deeper,

Than the bullet in his chest,

Wheezing, bleeding,

A red flower on his heart,

I watched my Captain dying,

I didn't play my part,

The gritty mud,

And blood stained boots,

Death is heavy on my heart,

All for curiosity,

To split a skulll apart

Well, another War poem, this time it's about a young trigger happy boy, who's so eager, and just doesn't understand that war isn't a game anymore, and accidently shoots his Captain.

Reviews are dearly appreciated

~TheLastCookieIsMine