When they return from war, our winning side.
You see deep into their eyes the flame that die
They kiss their girls but still they cannot hide
that also winners lose and dearly pay
a cut-throat cost and now they’re damaged goods.
I see their lamps at night are always lit,
they cannot sleep, cause in the neighborhood
a darkness linger from the throats they slit.
A hero cannot face his dreams at night;
the winner is the one that lost the least.
The air is thick of screams – around his neck
a millstone tied. His hell will never cease.
He mixes bourbon with prescription pills
and when his breathing ceased, he paid his bills
Today at dVerse poetics Mary wants us to ponder about winners and losers. What are their differences? What is typical of winners. But a year like this I cannot avoid talking about winners and losers in war (if there is such a thing). Many young men are becoming killers (often for a good cause) but a beast within has wakened and the prices afterwards are terrible.
December 2, 2014