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The squadron took the battlefield
Breath moving from its mouth
The cold of winter was revealed
And they moved, onward south

The guns and grenades sounded off
The soldiers were surprised
As they fell, the ground was soft
Muffled were their cries

The numbers diminished quickly
A bullet struck Tim down
From his throat, blood was trickling
No breath escaping now

Tim thought of family, once real-life
He prayed they’d be okay
Tim thought of God, as was so rife
Felt now he was betrayed

In these short moments in the snow
Tim weary of his worth
Please, oh God, don’t send me to hell
I’ve already lived on Earth.