Keeping the Population under Check:

My friend has grown cold,
As have I.
He is lying, sprawled out across the grass and dirt,
A bullet in his brain.

A bullet in vain,
My bane, my pain and my struggle,
The reason I fight so hard and the reason I want to go home,
Back to ungrateful brats.

I wonder what my friend thought,
As his eyes crossed to follow the bullet.
I wonder if he was afraid.
I wonder if he was proud.
I wonder if he was pissed for the second that he could.

Is this the end?
He might ask.
Please, I don't want to die here.
He might cry.

Is that all you got!?
He might say.
Guess I'm on the right side!
He might lie.

Who the hell am I fighting for!?
He might scream.
So I'm gonna die for my wasteful people
He might sigh.

Whatever his intention
Or his misfortune.
He is done, and so am I.
Will I finish this war?
I might.
Will combat settle the score?