In blood in the pitiless dust and heat of Iraq,
Terrorists, fundamentalist, Sunnis and whoever
Are killing and moving south on the attack,
While I'm out of the Army, back in Omaha,
Borderline PTSD, paid to put food in a sack,
At a supermarket full of soft and unknowing
Overweight suburbanite souls who lack
The sense to know I am a weapon, trained to
Kill bad guys in the sand-box ... I need to go back.
No comments:
Post a Comment