Veteran re-write. Temptation claws at a young man's core A rifle sits cross-legged between trembling fingertips Bullets rattle as his head does Noise too loud Generals too proud His eyes, black Above warpaint on brown skin Dart between the space before him. Shots stab the air A comrade falls Her shirt changing colors quicker than a reloading Fear so plainly Staining Her pallid face. What a waste. A too fast beat emerges from his heart As the field before him falls apart. Temptation, adrenaline Course through an old man's core He remembers everything The blood The gore. A rifle sits in the corner, cross legged, Swinging to a too fast heartbeat Sweating though there's no sign of heat Darting eyes, trembling fingertips, brown skin painted in PTSD, Forced to keep still as his memories fade The death of a battle-born hero.