Ghosts noisily roam
In my mental zone.
Ghosts of those slayed
For wrongs they played
In a time long gone
In a war long done
Where soldiers cried
As enemies and friends died
Then survivors live life
Memories slice like a knife
Cutting through brains
With barely concealed pains
To kill or be killed
With hearts so chilled.
No thoughts were nice
While hearts became ice
And I walk past the dead
Slaughtered with my lead.
Lives taken; oaths crossed
Emotions frigid as frost
Then come home, yet be lost
As a nation wonders at the cost.
Never killed a baby,
Though others might have, maybe.
In an airport I sit
Alert to avoid spit.
My feral eyes staring bright
At protestors in sight.
Not a war, formal,
The terrain not normal.
Then back home with Purple Heart
It feels like a poisoned dart.
Be calm they say
Yet feel terror each day.
Then die during peace
Because guilt will not cease.
To constantly feel the chill,
Of knowing it is easy to kill,
Then hide all those tears
Behind a façade of civilian years,
Yet stay haunted in your mind
By clamoring ghosts so unkind.
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