Category : Poems
Sub Category : N/A
Shots pour out, from the bottle to the glass.
He sits alone, drinking to the memories of the past.
Thinking back to a different time,
He's lost in memories when he was fine.
Back before he became sore,
Before he had gone to war.
Shots ring out, bullets from the gun.
The bombs go off under the desert sun.
Every second an eternity,
Return fire at the enemy.
Oh my God, we've been hit,
The truck's on fire, oh shit!
Shots pour from the bottle again.
He raises the glass,
Goodbye old friend.
Shots ring out in the back of his mind.
Some wounds don't heal,
Even with time.
A brutally honest description for the horror not war- Anyone who romanticizes it has no idea how it effects those who fight it- who are the victims of it and the families of all involved It is easy to understand those who survive bear the terrible scars and battle them the rest of their lives so we can live in freedom Thank you Jon for sharing and serving
Nov 20, 2019