Waiting on the Hill.
Two adolescent soldiers came out of their fort.
Waiting holding trigger fingers heavy.
The teen soldiers opened fire,
Heavy chamber fed killing hose.
Chewing up the earth infront of us.
Yet not a bullet crossed our path.
Our captain´s high low declaration of attack was given.
Those boys were no more.
Storming their fort.
Through old weapons and bodies we trudged,
someone had gotten here before us.
Captain´s face was solemn.
No intell, just the smell of diesel, gunsmoke and curdled blood.
Futilities scent.
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