pushed to tears, pain coursing through my body like an infection. Move on i must. Get back up and continue to march on. Before; a child, an innocent young child. Now a soldier. The battle wounds mark my skin like a tattoo, the death my eyes have seen. The killing my hands have done.
A man who is not the same, returns home but his mind stayed behind. A feeling of doubt and defeat, the thoughts never leave my head, the nightmairs never cease. I pick up the bottle only to make it worse, and after that first drink, im battling a new war.
Explanation is impossible and understanding is rare, but my body is home while my mind is always at...war!