The Gulf War 1990 to 1991

                                The Mask


Faces dark, with eyes so wide, beneath this rubber, features hide.

Let death not penetrate my skin, or eat away the soul within.

My breath is stale, the skin pulls tight, within this charcoal suit, I fight.

If down I go, the ground I lie, it is my place, my time to die.

Within this suit, await the shower, I shall not hide, be scared, or cower.

Survival is my one concern, shall I know, my time, my turn.

Then time has come, remove the suits, the khaki cloth, black rubber boots.

Gloves so tight, the mask of life, endless trouble, hopeless strife.

Breath through the nose, take in a breath, inhale the air that once held death.


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