His sky will never be blue
His clouds will always be grey
His air will always be ash
These visions won't go away
His eyes will always be haunted
His friends will never come back
The war man limps along the road
His possessions in his sack

He sees their agony in the water of the duck pond
He hears their screams in the teenagers playing songs
He smells their burning flesh in the vegetable aisle
What has been done to his friends, what wrongs?
He feels their cold skin on the kitchen tiles
He tastes their blood in the food he eats
The war man remembers those who once were
Their downfall after talk of heroic feats