Horrors of horrors you see
As you squat there in the pit.
Blistering bazookas pitting bullets at you.
And you just let it be.

Bodies are plummeting down into pits
Like tractors harvesting fruits on a good yield,
Papayas fall to the ground, ripe.
One hits too hard and splits.

The moon waxes and wanes
And you just lie there in the pit.
Coward! Do you not hear your
Fellow comrades die in pain?

It was a harrowing experience.
When you hear the sound of a flushing toilet
You hallucinate and crouch
In preparation for an incoming bullet.

Pain, is corporeal.
But pain, is also ephemeral.