Crying relentlessly it seems, my head held in my hands.
I've been this shattered far too long, in this my hellish land.
Staring blankly at the ceiling, and seeing my own face.
It's hard to accept this is who I am, in this dark and lonely place.
My hearing has become muffled, water filled within my ears.
This water there inside them I know has come from all my tears.
I sit up to stare blankly at my TV screen, that's not turned on.
I'm watching memories in my head of the land I once belonged.
It's silent to you in this place but to me there's war all around.
The sound of bullets whizzing by, the sound of boots stomping the ground.
I hear the cries of those I fought with and those who I fought in opposition.
Somehow I lived all those bloody battles and still finished in my mission.
Then I came home and they welcomed me, called me savior, hero, saint.
And I fear no matter what I do I can't prove to them those things I ain't.
So I glance behind my TV screen see a shadow box abound.
I throw my whiskey bottle at it, my Medals and ribbons hit the ground.
I reach across to the night stand and pull out my side arm .45
It's hard to think it's come to this, why am I still alive?
Survivors guilt sure is a b*tch, I wish it wasn't this way for me.
But this life I "live" is far too hard, I'm in eternal misery.
I press the barrel to my head and squeeze that trigger slow.
And that pistol wouldn't fire, I guess that's just my luck, you know?
So I survived another battle, this time one with my truest enemy.
That enemy that we all know too well, that enemy named "Me".
©jarnmarr
J