A Saint with a Shotgun

He's got a Shotgun in his hands,
A helmet on his head,
A backpack on his back,
And the entire world's trust in his heart.
He's got one man on his left,
Another on his right,
The enemy in front of him,
And God watching him from above.
He's got a family back home,
A wife all alone,
A beautiful baby girl in her arms,
And they're both waiting patiently for his return.
He's got a dad's wisdom,
A mom's voice,
A sister's kiss,
And a brother's hug to keep him sane.
He's got the ground underneath him,
An army of bullets racing towards him,
A trigger to pull,
And a victim to vanquish.
He's got a purpose,
A proposition,
A duty to uphold,
And will not stop until he hits his target.
He fights for our country,
He defends our nation's honor,
Defeats our rivals,
And is our saint with a shotgun.

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