Looking Through Stained Glass

The War At Home
Served his country over a score
Retired now, forever more
Surprised his wife at the front door
He’s done with war, all done with war

Civilian life is hard to him
Day in, day out of others whim
Add to the feelings of bedim
It makes him grim, just that more grim

Car horns turn into sirens loud
Dark corners hide things deep enshroud
He’s wary of “non-us” in crowds
This man once proud, so very proud

Family tries to rally 'round
Never knew where his moods were bound
Just knowing something’s not quite sound
He’s just too wound, too tightly wound

Nothing is quite as what it seems
But real life mixes with flashback dreams
For all he hears are high pitched screams
Rips at the seams, such jagged seams

Thinking of them with views askance
He blocked each door and each entrance
Thus slowing down all help’s advance
They had no chance, they had no chance

To free the pain from his own plight
He slays his kin on one dark night
Then sets a fire burning bright
It just felt right, felt oh so right

None heeded the sense of prodrome
A victim of Post War Syndrome
Their screams forever his souls roam
The war at home, the war at home

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© 2005 Raivenne (All rights reserved)

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