Your badass big brother is scaring and scarring you worse than ever.
He is not pressing his swollen fist to your familiar face,
But pounding the pavement in a ****** knuckled black out rage.
Reliving those war born, flesh torn gunshot mortaring days
And though his breast is bare and skin unscathed his heart is purple.
Refusing to share with you the cause of his eternal internal strife
And what has caused the **** on the soul of this wounded warrior.
Unable to comprehend the horrors too vividly vile for a brother’s ears.
Then you realize that your brother has gone far away for a while,
But you don’t really know if that gap toothed kid with goofy smile
Will ever come home from the bombing brutality of manipulative men
Since the battlefield is not a place, but a past that remains present.