This Is My Rifle

My rifle I hold with a steady hand, 
To fight for freedom and make a stand;
My country goes where there is a need,
Though they know that some will bleed.

When setting foot on a distant shore,
Prepared for battle like never before;
Think not of the reason we all were sent,
Or dissect our orders and what they meant.

This is my rifle and I shall hold it true,
My training has told me what I must do;
I cannot question, I cannot wait,
I cannot fail or even hesitate.

In my mind my heart is pleading no,
In my ear I hear my orders say go;
If I now advance I will surely die,
A telegram home and momma will cry.

What good will come if I take a life,
What outcome changes by creating strife;
I wonder what he thinks standing over there,
Pointing his rifle at me in this hot, still air.

Does he want to kill me as he was sold,
A lousy bill of goods like I was told;
Whatever the reason we both now sit,
Snared in war’s politics - it’s crock of shit.

The next time you want us to go over there,
May I suggest you go fist and clear the air;
You see neither side wins in any war,
You’d think we’d learned that from wars before.

A peaceful warrior is now my calling,
To end our soldiers from ever falling;
All you politicians now hear my plea,
The next blood spilled won’t come from me.

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