in War Poems
He sat in his foxhole,
Fired his last round.
Looked at his friend,
Fatally wounded.
He sat in his foxhole,
Fired his last round.
Looked at his friend,
Fatally wounded.
He thought of his wife.
Tears began to well
As he was captured.
The enemy interrogated
And questioned him.
They threatened his life.
If he didn't betray his nation,
He said again and again,
"I am just a soldier
I was ordered to fight."
Knowing it wasn't his right
To question the war,
He had fought fiercely
For the love of his land.
Every night he prayed,
Asking for an end to war
And to be with family.
He was now a POW
Longing for home,
Wondering about his wife,
If she was safe.
Swearing to never leave.
If only he could
Go home to Baghdad.
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