I can hear my breathing as loud as thunder

and my sweat drips into a pool of anguish.

My short hair blinds the path my eyes make

as my nerves cause an earthquake in my body.

The inch thick mud on my face cools me down,

but their ugly uniforms heat me up again.

The blood drips down my lip

as my head pounds.

And then I watch as the blood drips down from their chests

as the knife of my rifle pounds through their hearts.

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