The desk at war

[lennox222]

Edit 1

Soldiers inside the staple gun,
deployed by unseen hands,
always one more, ready to go.

In-line strapped to the rail,
fold their arms as they leave the plane,
dropping through white clouds.

Uniformed beach landings,
guns held high, knives at their side,
plunging into breaking seas.

Onward they march, relentless,
integral to the war machine,
and the beat of its linear heart.

Original
Soldiers inside the staple gun,
deployed by unseen hands,
always one more, ready to go.

In-line ready to jump,
fold their arms as they leave the plane,
dropping through white clouds.

Uniformed beach landings,
running down ramps, guns held high,
plunging into breaking seas.

Onward they march, relentless,
integral to the war machine,
and the beat of its linear heart.

Heavy on metaphor, but I cannot connect with the staples.