by | Nov 14, 2015 | Poetry | 0 comments

An old warrior sits his nerves all fraught.
So many nightmares, so many wars fought
Too much suffering, but he’s just too proud,
to ever ask for help out loud,

You’ll never see this warrior cry,
nobody is asking “why not son, why”,
he was once so young, so strong so bold,
he is paying the price as he gets old,

An old warrior sits, he’s cried he’s wept,
shameful of all the traumas kept,
he’s hid them well throughout the years,
no ones ever seen his tears,

Family, loved ones, comrades too,
how he wishes he could be more like civvies, you,
he needs some help, but where to turn,
in one within whom the fire did burn,

You’ll never see this warrior weep,
just know that you’re freedoms aren’t cheap,
so when this old warrior starts to fall,
hold out your arms and say “I’ve got you mate” and God bless you all.


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