Another day of madness.
Deep the lasting sadness.
Toil bears no boons.
Open, all the wounds.
No longer revelry,
falling in a memory.
Happy never to be,
in this horrid PTSD.
I must maintain this course,
even remembering the corpse,
for memory lend,
to a departed friend.
Eternal the irony
defending turned agony,
no more to feel kisses,
his body now in pieces.
The buzzing of a bee,
similar to that RPG,
it missed us by chance,
we made no advance.
They all rush in bursts,
and it always hurts,
whether thinking or feeling
I seem to end up kneeling.
With ignorance abreast,
we endured the rest,
religious groups presenting,
blaming gays and protesting.
Black the flag we get,
it says never to forget.
Yet, we do it brazenly,
two towers that fall on me.
Civilian living is confusing.
Those around me abusing,
This, the dead fought for,
I too, now I'm sore.
A song clear in my head.
It honors the dead.
It's cadence resounding.
Proudly here standing:
"Some Say Freedom is Free.
Well I tend to Disagree.
Some say freedom is won,
through the Barrel of a Gun."
Bore deeply in our hearts
but I can't see where it starts,
the raw memories that come
in flashes, never gone.
A litany of remembrances,
old friends and acquaintances,
no longer in my life,
pushed away by my strife.
Some say life is precious,
that a thought so treacherous,
it marks what you can't see,
for it is wasted on me.
My loved ones are blind,
they try to be kind.
I live, but I don't care.
much of me died over there.
This husk of a man
of nothing a fan
always lost in thought,
in all the things he fought.
Always being formal,
yet never feeling normal;
they all walk without care,
while I see danger everywhere.
To this I am now bound,
can't even hear a loud sound.
My heart in fast palpitation,
there is no gun at this station.
Much I cannot comprehend.
Yet I still want to defend,
things meaningless to others,
for the sake of fallen brothers.
I guess I must go on.
Chin up, I'm not done.
All of it to guard,
soldiers move forward.
