It never was black and white,
it couldn't have been.
You drew the short straw,
tucked away pride in your back pocket.
You took your gun as an extension of
your courage and fought with that.
You heard the sounds of laughter
followed by the explosions of shrapnel.
You dodged the people throwing stones,
retaliated only when the tanned boy standing
behind you, gave the nod.
You heard on the BBC news that this wasn't
and turned back to check;
as the boy tumbled under the weight of the rocks
crying for a hero.