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A precarious pinion
On the Wings of war
Send in your minions
Have them soak up some gore.
Grunts, trash,
Cannonfodder
Won't get no stitches.
Medical attention?
Save that for the 'leet,
Those with connections.
Guns, blades,
Pistols and bayonets
Fog of war fades,
Blow them clarinets
In the song of the dead.
Bled to death, or decapitated
Emancipated from life and worry,
Apologies, still there but much belated.
Elated with victory, come on lads!
Bury your dead
Throw dirt on top of comrades.
It's sad.
Grunts, trash,
Cannonfodder,
Computer glitches
Kill thousands of 'em.
Semblances of pity
Lost emblems
Now to the breach,
Defend our city,
Throw in the expendables
Don't matter if
They is or ain't mendable.
Lost limbs, eyes, and souls
Teeth broken, scars
And armor with holes.
Blows to the head
Shells in the skull
Don't need no bed
Tents ain't yet full.
Send him in.
bravenet.com