Warfare

• Shelley Thackeray, Grade 10
• Poetry
• 2013

Hidden in the bushes my blue and grey camouflage.
The snow seeping through and wetting my stomach.
If I move I die, GAME OVER.
The enemy draws near, my breathing gets heavier.
I take one last deep breath, it’s do or die now.
I line the scope up with my eye and slowly. exhale.
The crosshair is locked onto his heart.
My finger itches to press the trigger.
He moves, leans down to scratch his knee.
I inhale sharply, maybe too loud.
Who’s there he calls loading his gun.
My time is now, that was too close.
I realign the cross hair dead on this time.
BANG! He’s dead, his blood stains the snow.
I laugh to myself, how I avoided death.
Call Of Duty can be pretty intense.