HIS GHOSTS
Rest is elusive for the once strong man
He gets bits of sleep whenever he can
Bombs go off, pictures of the dead
Are still rambling around in his head
Talk to him, he seems so distant
Nervous tics are so persistent
His answers are always vague
He rubs the stump where once was a leg
He used to laugh louder than anyone
Sadly now those days are gone
He wonders what his hours are for
He thinks he is of no use no more
Home they come to be this way
In their own little worlds they tend to stay
The sounds of gunfire and bombs persist
They'll no longer live they just exist
Once a hopeful man he was
Then off he went to fight because
We gave him boots, a uniform, and gun
And home he came, a damaged one
And the ghosts of war will taunt him
Visions of mangled souls will haunt him
The music he hears are bullets flying
He survived but is forever dying
DroneFingers
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