I let it run right through my hands,
Ignore the men and their commands.
Their aim is steady, as am I,
My heartbeat sure, steel in my eye.
It’s warmer than I thought it’d be-
The viscous red all I can see.
Still, I hold the burning weapon,
Take their measure-they are seven-
It is here, then, where it will end,
And I, alone, without a friend.
I guess, it is, as I deserve-
But it’s not time to lose my nerve.
Though labeled Judas, I will fight
Until the end with all my might.
Glory can fall to only one-
And if not me, it shall be none.
They shout, demanding I should yield,
But I just laugh, my fate now sealed.
They raise their weapons. As do I.
And then we let the paintballs fly.
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