Alone I crouch, my bullets all but spent, My platoon lost—whether dead or alive. In trees I hide, cold and with little bent, As overhead the drone begins to dive. Its hum persists, both whiny and unforgiving, It hunts me through the leaves, where blooms arise. The drone, with deadly cargo, seeks my living, A man or A.I. crafts my quick demise. I grasp a branch, the earth beneath me shakes, I swing with might, the rotors hit with force. The drone veers off, then bursts in flames and breaks, Its wreckage burns behind the mossy course. I stare and wonder through the smoke and blast: Was it a man or A.I. that sealed my past? (INTERSTITIAL) 6 Months Later. The truck jolts down a dry and dusty track, As heat beats down, the air a blinding haze. My rifle spits, but none of my shots back The drone that chases through the desert’s maze. The bumps toss me, my aim a shifting guess, While through the dust, the drone stays hot in chase. My war mates grunt, their voices filled with stress, While I can't strike the target, lost in space. The sun melts stone beneath the searing breath, The drone draws near, a shadow in the heat. I fire again, but know it's set for death, A flash, a roar, and then the end complete. My final thought, a patriot in this war: If A.I. killed me, what was I fighting for?