The heartless battle had left hundreds of soldiers in green
Sprawled across the brown contours of the battlefield
And they lay forgotten, enemies and friends scattered uselessly together.
But no one cares, so long as the sweet general comes
Home in time for his tea, unscathed and safe.

When that battle was done and the soldiers were swept away,
And sent back to the second hand store, for another
General to use at his mercy, new sporadic training movements
Floated in front of the young general's eyes.
The empty battle cries echoed through the room.

Another day, another training session, and he's
Forgotten his gun. A friend offers him a spare,
And they spend the afternoon hailing liquidy bullets
At one another. Army ling drops from the young tongues
And stirs the young mother's feeding their babies spoonfuls of invisible food.
Intensity is what he craves, and eventually
He finds it in modern warfare. He's as merciless
As a soldier as he was as the general and he
Easily irradiates the enemy with a casual
Flick of his thumb. His fellows congratulate him
In dry, empty terms called compliments.

Life skills they said on the advert,
They told him he would gain so much.
He didn't forget his gun today, no, that became
His third arm on the brown contours of
The desert. It wasn't his gun he was looking for
That day.
It was the respawn button.