"hellhole" poems
Commitment issues
This again?
Yes but this time these are my words
Not the labels thrown at me by exes
Like arrows attempting to pierce me into place
I thought it was meant to trap me
But I think they just wanted me to stop
To think
To really evaluate myself
To see the truth
Im afraid of commitment.
When I've been told this in the past
I read it with the understanding that
Commitment issues meant I
Just couldn't have or didn't want a relationship
And that just couldn't be true
I mean just check my track record
No, see
My having commitment issues
Is rooted deeply within my past
These problems originate in an exciting mix of
Trust issues
Abandonment issues
And a variety of other traumas
I am not afraid to enter relationships
And I do not avoid love
Actually, I am obsessed with finding love
With being loved
All the while trying to love another
Thinking I'm succeeding
While subtly sabotaging myself in the process
When I was small
I did not receive the respect and care
Needed to show I was loved
Though my parent said they cared
They didn't protect me the way they should have
I had to take care of myself
Look out for myself
Because I was the only one I could trust
Anytime I got close to someone
They'd either decide to leave
Or get ripped away by outside forces
I was alone a lot
And not great at making friends
With the abuse happening at one house
And some solace found at the other
I was constantly fluctuating between
Hellhole and liberation
All while trying to have a childhood
And survive adolescence
So when they say I have commitment issues
They're probably right
But not for the reasons they think
Not because I'm polyamorous
Not because I don't want to commit
Not because I don't love and
Not because of who I am as a person
My issues come from a long line of
Different abuses by people who
Were supposed to protect me
But didn't
So if you think to judge me
For the trouble I have with trusting you
And trusting you won't hurt me
Or decide to leave when I'm "too much"
Understand that I did not choose to be like this
I didn't choose the pain that led me to love
In such a haphazard way
But I am choosing to do something about it
Sep 2, 2018
Sep 2, 2018 at 8:48 AM UTC
I feel so trapped and I can’t escape.
I really am stuck in this godforsaken place.
The walls are closing in,
pushing me down and holding me back.
I could scream for hours,
but no one would ever hear me.
The lid of this box is taped shut
and I’m suffocating in here.
The pain bites into my arm,
criss-crossed streets painted crimson red.
I can’t handle living in this hellhole anymore.
Is this what you wanted?
Did you want something more?
Even in this moment of weakness
I will never live up to your high expectations.
You are a fly that gets stuck in my head,
yelling out insults while my subconscious shudders.
I’m worthless and pathetic?
Are you talking to the mirror again?
Take a long hard look at the girl you destroyed.
While she’s standing there bleeding,
you still demand so much more.
“You deserve everything that’s happened,
you’re an ungrateful, useless *****
Just shout your obscenities one more time.
Where will you be without your emotional punching bag?
You are nothing without your words.
A big hulk of a man with darkness behind your eyes.
Just hit me one more time,
I relish in that instant pain.
This agony preferred over your emotional slurs.
You are nothing but a poor excuse for a father.
Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 9:48 PM UTC
True Stories #1
This is the first of what will be a series of little vignettes.
When I was fourteen,
I was the alienate hipster rebel
In a private school hellhole.
Hair long, tie knot never pushed up,
Unbuttoned button-down shirts,
Camus lover,
Siddhartha disciple,
Small acts of disdain,
Expressions of teenage hell-pain.
One day, the principal
Threw me out to get a haircut.
Went to the nearby barbershop,
Which was in the underground,
Subway stop.
Returned to school where It was
Pronounced unacceptable.
Twice more this charade-escapade,
Went on, till the barber cried and would not
Charge me anymore.
Shorn like a lamb,
My mother roared like a lion.
The next day, the man in charge,
Who would marry my second son,
Three decades later,
Called me in and sort-of-apologized.
From that day, I never respected authority,
Only learned to fear tyranny.
See photo of my latest protest!
Oct 5, 2013
Oct 5, 2013 at 7:40 AM UTC
My questions go unanswered.
My words ignored.
My presence overlooked.
Myself invisible to the eyes of others.
In a sty of stench.
In her own ***** she is drenched.
The reason I crossed two states borders.
Pack rat hoarder.
Without organization of order.
Out lived my heart hesitated.
My life dictated.
By a **** "mom" who dominates.
Controlling with my child as leverage.
She holds us hostage.
In her cobwebbed hellhole of dust.
Mold, ***** stench, mildew, & rust.
She is no one to ever trust.
I have alot to complain about & fuss.
Neglected, unprotected,& disrespected.
Taken for granted & unappreciated.
Unknown but senselessly hated.
For love or friendship I waited.
No one ever asked me to be dated.
My life I lived & created.
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 2:39 PM UTC
What makes you
want to be with trash
pond **** who can't make you,
but he sure comes fast
Who made his mind up
about life too quick
What about adventure
and the risk of it?
I've seen your moves
they **** me every time
Hip ****** and **** bumps
encircle and enthral my mind
You are far to beautiful
to be with that creep
he probably snores
and won't let you sleep
If I kept you up
with a bubbling nose
I'd ask you to wake me
and we'd plow till close
I don't mind a snuggle up tight
With you in my arms
is a desirable,
and significant fight
Does he ever marvel
by the beauty of your eyes?
Does he ever tell you
he could never compromise?
With you and the world
it is your pretty life
to choose the hands
who delicately caress you
With your support
and all my work
we'll run this hellhole
turn it heaven on earth
Feb 8, 2011
Feb 8, 2011 at 4:50 AM UTC
From the depths of hell
Where I slowly fell
A deal made with the devil
As I started tossing pennies in a well
But the angels came and broke my fall
Saved me from sinking, down this hellhole
The life I sold is more precious than gold
That my friend is what I saw,life is now more clearer and bold
But after all upon throwing them all
Before the saving and breaking of my fall
I drowned in fame,money and ***
for 7 years I ruled the world as it rise to an apex
But then downfall and recollection came tormenting my soul
Hellhounds came gnarling,scratching and waiting at my bedroom door
Regrets starts falling alone with my tears as I prayed for salvation
Never thought God listened, As the angels descent ended my damnation
The devil is a salesman and you're a valued costumer
Starts thinking 7 times before you go and starts to barter
For your soul is more precious than what you think you'll be having
God gave me a second chance never thought my soul is worth saving
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 3:15 AM UTC
Millay Has Her Way with a Vassar Professor
by Michael R. Burch
After a night of hard drinking and spreading her legs,
Millay hits the dorm, where the Vassar don begs:
“Please act more chastely, more discretely, more seemly!”
(His name, let’s assume, was, er ... Percival Queemly.)
“Expel me! Expel me!”—She flashes her eyes.
“Oh! Please! No! I couldn’t! That wouldn’t be wise,
for a great banished Shelley would tarnish my name ...
Eek! My game will be lame if I can’t milque your fame!”
“Continue to live here—carouse as you please!”
the beleaguered don sighs as he sags to his knees.
Millay grinds her crotch half an inch from his nose:
“I can live in your hellhole, strange man, I suppose ...
but the price is your firstborn, whom I’ll sacrifice to Moloch.”
(Which explains what became of pale Percy’s son, Enoch.)
Originally published by Lucid Rhythms. This poem is based on an account of Edna St. Vincent Millay being confronted by a male Vassar authority about her rogue behavior. However, there is a some poetic license involved, for the sake of humor. It was actually Vassar President Henry Noble MacCracken who mentioned Shelley. Here is his account in a response to a question about Millay cutting classes: "She cut everything. I once called her in and told her, 'I want you to know that you couldn't break any rule that would make me vote for your expulsion. I don't want to have any dead Shelleys on my doorstep, and I don't care what you do.' She went to the window and looked out and she said, 'Well on those terms I think I can continue to live in this hellhole.'" The stuff about Enoch and Moloch is, of course, pure fabrication on my part.
Keywords/Tags: Millay, dead, Shelley, Vassar, dorm, hellhole, drinking, partying, *** cutting classes
Apr 17, 2020
Apr 17, 2020 at 12:32 AM UTC
***** Jersey
You are unworthy
From the infamous Jersey shore
To the depths of Bergen county
You hound me
Thank god sandy got rid of that cesspool by the way
Anyone ever hear of Lodi?
No?, ok... Moving on,
New Jersey, the ideal place for parents who have small children
Once they are teenagers
They will rip their parents apart for condemning them to a suburban hellhole
For sentencing them to an infernal purgatory, where if you have no car, you are stuck at home, and unless you walk to a bus stop and take the bus somewhere else, you have no job
So you find your best friend...
Marijuana
And then you start selling it and you now have a job
Drug dealer.
Find a pill counter who works at Walgreens pharmacy and you have now
expanded your market
Oh ***** Jerz, for grey-ish skies
For sewage waves of stain,
for unemployed and worker slaves,
all for minimum wage.
Dec 10, 2012
Dec 10, 2012 at 10:15 AM UTC
Hoobler Hobbler:
He brings only fatigue.
He is but just annoying,
He rarely does intrigue.
Even my brothers are
Extremely irritated so,
For they cannot do anything
Since he really cannot go
For even a strongman like old Mal
He cannot move this hefty tonne,
Both Adsel and Luke alike
Their words like an empty gun
Frank cannot do anything,
He just perches there to watch;
Mike and Blake hide in their hole
And Rooney's but a blotch
Oh this fascinating team
For once they really can't control;
This heavy weighted sleepyhead
Has just worsened this hellhole
Hoobler Hobbler:
It's not just the fatigue,
He also brings along chaos
But still doesn't intrigue
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 11:08 AM UTC
when you pulled my trigger,
did you smile, lioness?
ricochet, ricochet.
did i want you?
for security i suppose.
when you kiss him,
will you think of me?
i doubt it.
feed my self-loathing machine.
it's hungry.
all the nights
are all mine.
all the girls,
they got no time.
all the nights
will find you in his arms.
all the girls
will conspire against me, alright?
manufacture fine ******* feelings,
smile quazi-sincere,
i never, you never, i never meant anything.
i fell for you fast, lioness.
that is always a turn-off.
i should have been an *******
that's your type.
********
i kissed you.
but it didn't matter.
your breath went heavy,
but it doesn't matter.
i ended a relationship for you,
but it doesn't matter.
it's a fashionable game,
i fronted as a washed up bukowski-type,
and when you found out i was nice
you disowned me,
understandable move.
copingstrategies.copingstrategies.copingstrategies.
bring on the vultures.
i'll make them songs,
coffee,
and friendly emotions.
pick me apart,
promise i can watch.
pick me apart,
promise i can watch.
let the beautiful boy tame you, lioness.
your hundreds of miles away, anyhow.
let me turn to vapor.
don't talk to me.
don't ask around about me.
answers will frighten.
answers will anger.
i am barely alive.
you were selfish.
i am barely alive.
you were selfish.
you never paid me a compliment
only talked of all the other lovers.
you never cared what i had to say
only talked of your own experience each day.
i thought you were different in your own way.
your different in the same way.
turn to grey.
**** him and your pain away.
i ended everything to begin again.
i ended everything and nothing started.
i ended and found myself in the abyss.
hellhole, hope you aren't happy.
i'm malaise.
i'm the wasp nest.
if you ask to rekindle.
i'll douse myself,
and set myself to flame before
you ever get near.
don't anybody touch the remnants of me.
i want to die this way.
i want to die everyday.
i miss the comfort of everything.
i don't have the energy to start again,
nor do i have the self-esteem to move my feet,
i was wrong,
no dancing at my end times,
just knives,
fevers, and cobwebs.
i laughed out of irony.
i laughed out of spite for me.
goodnight everything.
Sep 10, 2010
Sep 10, 2010 at 11:31 PM UTC
Or afterlife I can't remember
*Let's take a trip
Just go for a stroll
Down this hellhole
Old ravaged soul
Fear not my friend,
For lo and behold
You've been here before
Time after time,
Spent breaking the mold
Value of life cajoled
Blindfolded by fool's gold
Then a jolt
of electricity
jots down your spinal chord
Now you're on the threshold
About to enter a portal of some sorts,
No?
Only to discover
You're living the life of another
And the sum of every misgiving
makes you suffer in discomfort
Living the dream
To wake and repeat
Routinely existing
One day at a time
Feel it yes shudder
Over your head pull the covers
Dream of a place elsewhere
But beware your worst nightmares
As a slaughter is awakening
Pharm entrapment for mass brainwashing
It's one global chess-game
While pawns are laid to waste
Archons duplicate an assumed fate
Deception whispers into the hearts of the wicked
For certain they're rendered
by men lurking
shadily behind curtains unspoken of
I'm ashamed
Prayers fall on deaf ears
when a reckoning is ravenous
Assuredly glimmering in extravagance
Whilst you traipse about like savages
Poisoning our brains
Tainting the terrain
Reign supreme putrid filth
For bloodstained money &
Squandered wealth
Lengthening our debts
Molesting children
Who'd like to place their highest bet?
Just stay conditioned
For the daily grind
The hustle and bustle
Stick with consistence
And reminisce of better times
You're dead inside
Is the end just contingent?
Why won't society just crumble
Keep living the lie
Greener pastures
lay just beyond the hillside
Am I right?*
Oct 29, 2015
Oct 29, 2015 at 9:37 AM UTC
I always knew I was going to hell.
But I never knew I'd get there while I was still
alive.
↠mndi➣
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 4:33 PM UTC
The Lemur is enthroned on the heights of an island
In a luxurious villa, complete with a sauna and a pool
The Dormouse holds, modestly, a small pharmacy
Where people can buy necklaces, gemstones and pretty threads.
Every Monday morning the lemur fixes
His hair with a delicate ivory comb
Asks about the stock market in overflow
Swallowing a pure white powder in a row
His orange eyes threaten to explode
So he sits down, eats lobster and sated,
He doesn’t have a care in the world as descends the evening
His paw resting on a black jade cane stolen from the dormouse
Monday morning, the lemur, operational
Goes fast, pick and pickaxe at the mine
Extracting, sweaty, some beautiful spinel specimens
Hoping that one day at the Lemurian’s he would dine
For a trifle, the latter bought him
His most beautiful crystals and this without paying taxes
He became the leader of the island thanks to his kinsmen
The exotic animals knew something was wrong…
His only friends were the rich and the bohos
Under the yoke of this monkey, the island was a hellhole
Their chef was addicted to coconut powder
Whoever dared to say it was put in irons
When finally, an evening he overdosed
Nobody buried him among his friends
The Dormouse humbly undertook to do so
At the hole where he dug, he found a stone
The moral of the fable, listen to it then,
Who shows compassion exists with reason
Do not judge too fast, because we're leaving too early
Nature often rewards us in her own way.
September 11, 2019
Nancy, translated on November 17, 2019
Nov 17, 2019
Nov 17, 2019 at 9:40 AM UTC
This silence is too eerie, this emptiness is too vast. I thought I've finally escaped this "hellhole". I thought that I've escaped into the embracing arms of Camelot. But little did I know, Camelot is an evil place brimming with demons from over the world. Shush, they're coming for me. Don't make a sound now, or else I'll flip.
I hear them breathing noisily thought their nostrils, congested with slimy mucus. I see them now! Blood overflowing from their mouths, unable to satiate their undying wants for human minds. Help! I'm gripped tightly around the fingertips of fear, "they'll never let me go" I thought to myself.
As quietly as I could, I tiptoed into the most outstanding room of this beautiful castle. I locked the door, double bolt, and triple bolted it. Oh, foolish me. What have I just done? This room has no windows at all. Those cannibals are scraping the door. They've smelt my scent, they've smelt my sweat. They've realized my presence and now I can never outrun them anymore.
I dug my hands into my pocket, hoping to find something that I can use to fight them off. I thought my pockets were empty, but thank God for hope. I felt something metal, I felt something sharp. I pulled it out. Guess what I've found! Upon sight of that metal blade, I chuckled to myself. I am elated. "There's a way out of this after all." I really couldn't have asked for more.
With this blade I'd win, I'd be triumphant.
So as the wooden door slowly split into two upon the clawing of those disgusting creatures, I've dug the metal blade DEEP. DEEP into my ulnar first, then my jugular. "HA HA HA HA", I cried out loud as I breathed my final breathe to show that I'VE WON, YOU CAN NEVER GET ME NOW.
(C.C)
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 8:07 AM UTC
We are not pens, ourselves, red ink is not inside of us.
But we do have sensitive blood that is discolored, same as that utensil.
Difference is: it poisons us, gives us rashes and thoughts that we are not worthy to have. It wrecks our minds with ancient tools that were once unaccepted. Silly poppies can not
Ruin us like that. I know what can.
The things that worry us, teenagers and babies, parents and pedophiles;
Cease your worries. I pity you, teens.
"It is fun, it is fun." I know I know. But is it worth the risk?
Cease your worries parents. You don't need to stalk your own children.
They learn from their mistakes. They cry for a while and then get stronger.
Like I did, why I kept my mouth shut for so long,
I was better. Until you began to read. I couldn't go to you specifically for that reason,
Tightening your hold on me, mother. I am already a prisoner in my own mind.
I don't need another warden.
A century long breakthrough gave me something,an understanding that not all children accept
Their parents. I don't feel at home there.
It is not one. Just a house that I stay in, people I live with. They are family, by blood only.
****** ink: my savior. My hero, love, is you. You inspired me to digitalize, write with graphite.
But I am still contaminated, mind wandering,
History repeating, sounds piercing, a test is too much when I did not study.
Help me. The trials this has put me through are unfair. Give me my pen to sign a contract, but I
Poison myself instead. Only okay after after a needle enters my streams and takes it out.
A mechanical vampire, I prefer you to bit me instead of metal fangs.
And now I dream.
.
.
.
.
.
Or maybe I am not. We have lived as such long enough. But, still,
Write about it. Tell me how you feel. But be careful not to poison yourself.
I have experience with that. The pen has a hidden blade. It cuts you with every word you
Lay in front of you. May I be a word? Scratch my love into your skin?
I will not intoxicate you as it would. I will give you something else entirely.
But my dream ends. Reality steps on me and takes my breath from me, I am suffocating in this Hellhole. Give me a firehouse so I can put it out and drink away my parched lips.
They need to be soft so I can speak, but first... I need to
Sew my lips shut. If they are dry, they will rip and open. We don't want that.
Keep them shut, don't tear open and bleed; you would give ink poison to
Mockingbirds if you do. They mock me, copy me. They tell me they are jealous.
But why? They don't know they've been poisoned.
It is a cycle. Everyone will die of it in the end.
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 3:23 PM UTC
I don’t care you know, just make me up
but I suppose if I don’t do basic character designing first, you’d have nothing substantial to play with
opened the character settings page then gave up
oh well you can just fantasize about this hollow husk
just physical, for starters
I’d still be honoured
you ask me how I’m doing
I laugh so loud the ceiling shakes and neighbours come out of their houses
I started losing my footing since I stepped into this hellhole
you know, my vision is blurred
just take advantage of me
I won’t even retaliate I might even play along
hey, the me from pre-quicksand
I miss you please come home
this house is something like a hollow husk
I can’t see clearly anymore
I should probably get some glasses
even then I’d still let them play with me
I always levelled up my combat but neglected other skills for self-preservation
cooking, crafting, farming, hunting, etc.
is the person in the mirror the same as the person in the photos
****** doppelgängers
I’m quite the expert at investing in things I shouldn’t
and subtly letting people down
hey, the me from pre-quicksand
I think you should come home so I feel more myself
so maybe I can once again be kind(er)
and a little more wise
to see with unclouded eyes
and stop wandering off unarmed into the great unknown
when you’re back, pass me the ****** glasses
hey, idiot in the quicksand
can you at least try to ask for help
instead of struggling there like a *****
you’re sinking deeper
so I’m hollering and screaming at the top of my lungs
frightened faces peer out from windows opposite
forget it I’ll make a home of the quicksand
when I was still in control of the game
I should’ve trained some skill to get me out of this ********
or at least deal with it better
because now someone else is playing me
to some stranger I passed the reins, saying
“I don’t care you know, just make me up”
I’m in chin-deep
just launch me into battle without ammunition
I’ll simply die, then respawn, then die, then respawn, then die, then respawn
again
and again
oh well I guess this isn’t so bad
by the time the me from pre-quicksand comes back
there might not be a need for her anymore
nor for ******* glasses
Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 9:44 AM UTC
Don’t send me to the hospital
I just left without a cure
Don’t feed me the drugs
My over-dosing habits are not pure
Don’t leave me suffering
Alone as you walk past
Just take me to the sea
Where I can float into infinity
Haunting these hallways
I surround friends with joy
Faking my way of life
So no one pulls me outside
Not like I’m filled inside
And it seems I like to criticize
All those girls for being fake.
While I know it’s true,
I can’t be too hypocritical
When I look at myself
As unrealistic projections
Of a happy adolescent
If you couldn’t tell,
Then I must be doing well
As my walls are built higher
And my skin grows a little tighter
I still get sick
Of going back every day
With all the ****** up acts
People commit inside the hellhole
I’m sworn to go to
Until my legal childhood dies
Most days, I’m scared to go back
When the treatment is this bad
And the punches are dealt the same
When the words leave the their mouths
And leave me hanging to on the edge
Suffering with more blood from razors
The past 12 years seem to merge
Into a big blurb of complete crap
I thought by now, we’d grow taller and mature
From the childish **** of the past
They’re still satisfied with producing slurs
Just because I’m not at their ‘perfect stature’
That’s when I wonder what’s going to change
Am I ever going to take a jump away
And find some way to escape
While a month and a half seems so short
Being told you’re a **** up every day
Makes the days a little bit longer
What if I didn’t come back tomorrow
Or all the days after that
What if I said oh ***** it
And left the world in a snap
What will they say, when someone tells them
It was their faults from their words and their actions
And as every day continues
To be another fight for a healthy mental state
I just lay down at night thinking
Sometimes I wish I could die.
May 3, 2012
May 3, 2012 at 3:09 PM UTC
Grey is this town,
A never ending spiral of hate and violence.
Depression is contagious here.
Why haven't we been quarantined.
Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 2:29 PM UTC
October 31. Halloween
A Celebration celebrated worldwide for children and adults to dress as whatever they desire and are free of judgement... of condemnation.
A night where the freaks hidden inside every 'normal' person comes out to play either;
commando,
or a zombie,
a damsel in distress or
might i add a naughty little schoolgirl..
An open invitation to ask strangers for candy,
a game to see who can collect the most......
Halloween is just a game that is just full of surprises aren't they?
Oh! Halloween is a night everyone looks forward too.....
the dead included
We like games too.
We, the ones who linger between realms awaiting trial.
waiting to be stationed into our eternal home a pick between;
a forever scorching, fire blazing hellhole or
forever be glistened by the almighty light.
On Halloween night,
we the dead are free to wonder back into the world we begged to leave
whilst upon the stars the judge laughs upon his throne at us,
knowing all to well we despise this place.
Mockery is a well known game,
played by many, deceived so many.
Even mortals shamelessly mock the dead and tease us with life
irony is they live for this very night
to dress up and be someone/something they desire the most.....
the things they so often remind thy selves are;
abnormal,
freaks,
an abomination..
For god so loved the world,
he gave his only son,
to prove that he can and could give and take life as he pleases
We 'freaks' learnt that the hard way..
Every Halloween the Gods are at play and so are the humans,
but never us.
We the ones the mortals fear
And the Gods personal entertainment.
These humans wonder off into the parade whilst we linger in the depths of the darkness
He told us as punishment we are to watch them parade about us
and celebrate the day of the dead,
He who looks down upon us cursed us.
To have a sirens call-
to lure them in,
sedating them with sweet nothings,
BUT only one rule applied to us all:
NO touching the one thing we freaks' all lacked; SOULS
That's their sick,game
to tease us by gifting us to caress the mortals ever so slightly but nothing more....
'SADISM' is what we call the game in which Hades and the Gods play;
and us being the pawns.......
Well not anymore.
Not this time
No! tonight we will purge on whatever comes our way,
Sedating them with the curse of a sirens call.......
the one that the mighty gods has gifted us with,
Tonight we feast on what the humans are celebrating; DEATH.
No more hide and seek games, with the humans
No more cat and mouse games with the Judges
its our turn to give a good scare!
Tonight we play our own game,
We call it 'PEEK-A-BOO'!
'cause tonight we'll will give them one HELL of a Spooky night,
'cause we're coming for you!!!!!
Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 7:44 AM UTC
We were down in the province of Basra, Iraq
For reasons not precisely clear.
Our objective that day was a Shia run town;
A town named Sari Mi Dyr.
The road to the town was a minefield of sorts
It was booby-trapped with I.E.D.’s.
Still it was the constant sniping that caused
the bulk of our casualties.
The day was as hot as a woman’s scorn
when the last of her tears have dried.
I’ll remember this road to Sari Mi Dyr
On which so many good friends have died.
The day was near spent when command showed some sense;
We heard our choppers draw near.
They aborted the mission and extracted my men
From that hellhole called Sari Mi Dyr.
I’m writing my after action report,
and trying to hold back a tear;
When I think of the good men and women who died
On the road to Sari Mi Dyr.
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 6:25 AM UTC