by | Feb 4, 2008 | Poetry | 0 comments

Its not called a conflict, it’s called a war,
its not like we’ve not trod this path before,
The places are different, but all just the same
Exactly same anguish, exactly same pain.

It’s not like we’ll benefit,from the end result of this,
It’s the friends that we make, the family we miss
The flag draped coffin, another hero laid down,
Exactly whats given, for country and crown.

It’s the freezing cold nights, and the boiling hot days,
It’s the innocence lost in so many ways,
The lines appear visibly, as each day is over,
Exactly how much sleep, underneath the troop rover

It’s time to move on, this tour is now finished,
It’s the lives we have changed, the hardship’s diminished,
The next lads are in, with large heavy steps,
Exactly passed details in many “sit reps”

Its the silence thats deafening, within all of this noise,
It’s the feeling alone, amongst all the boys
The weapon lies still, so useless for now
Exactly numbered friends, still here, i not not how

Its the cold English air, that i notice first
It’s the boredom of Garrison life, that i fear the worst
The lines i want back, this weapon needs life
Exactly the feeling, until eyes lay on wife

Its my girls i see, “our daddies home”
It’s the need to stay still, to no longer roam
The sofa is soft, the carpets thick pile
Exactly my home, at least for a while.


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