The soldier

Smoke,
the smell of the powder is in the air.
War, sadistic goddess,
your hands are the death’s bony hands.
The battlefield bleeds
and my friends here are dead,
remain cry and fight
against my enemy
my enemies that I never knew
and they never will know me.
Who’s the enemy?
Who are we?
We are peons on the general’s chess,
we can’t return,
only go ahead
encounter my enemies
we’re exposed to the hostile artillery
while our superiors
are protected far from the combat.
My M4 shout and spit my pain,
the tanks overrun the silence
and smash the peace.
My allies are frightened
for the death, the suffering,
for the hostiles guns observing us shrewdly,
waiting our brief mistake
to aim us.
I don’t understand why I’m here,
and my family cry for me.
Go ahead! marching with cold and fear,
carrying homesick in the rucksack;
I wanna go back home,
to the comfort of my mother
and the homemade food.
here I’m starving
seeing dead bodies on the ground
and fire sparking.
just one error and I’ll burn on hell
(if here is not the hell),
I will never return.
The smell of the death follows me,
I kill so much that I stopped to count,
Forgive me God! Orders are Orders.