Locus of agency

So tired of fighting;
don't know what it is I'm fighting for -
ours is but to do and die,
ours is not to reason why,
but even soldiers pretend
that they know enemy from friend.
Do the job at hand -
it's worth two in the bush.

Why second guess?
Why doubt?
Keep convictions strong.
Keep grit stronger.

Keep telling myself I've so much left to offer - 

Davy says that I look stronger.

But trying is trying; the silent wait for sweet release keeps getting longer,
and I wait with onerous hunger.

Perhaps impatience will be the final winner;
I drink my final draught and wait to pull the trigger.