You know you'll never tell them
The true aspect of war;
Never reveal the sights you saw:
The men, women and children dying,
The colour of blood on your uniform
Not your own; the change of sky;
The way they die,
The spit and vomit
And the cries along the line;
And nightly dreams
That end up unfolding
From the day before
With all the agony and gore.
You'll come home
And say nothing
Of the sights of war;
Say nothing of the headless men,
The limbless friends;
You will come home in silence
And hope war ends.


Comments: 10
Lovely poem, my friend.
Gather Broadcasting: Have it your way
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