What are mere days in peaceful surburbia

seem like years in boot camp purgatory,

with the body at attention day and night

and the mind a sharpened repository;

weakness meets physical and emotional battery,

and ends with a harshly ringing bell,

and the strong who weather these winds

burst with sefless service from their shells.


As the hot sun finally sets on the field

coated with pepper spray, sweat, and tears,

every sixteen shadows converge to individual

platoons, each their salvation near.

Grizzled directors ask for eyes and ears

the polished graduates ready as ever;

with booming uniformity and resound,

the academy ends with "Sir, yes, sir!"


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