Who is the man who holds my gun
When the world turns deathly still?
With hardened coldness in his veins
As he prepars the kill?

The roaring engines,
The radio chatter,
All go perfectly quiet.
All that matters is ending the threat.
It starts with sight alignment.

Thumb pushes the safety
*Click*
Center mass. Steady. Stop breathing. Squeeeeeze...

Who held my body?
Is he my enemy?
Is he my friend?
Can I please meet (be) that man again?