A crying soldier sits
next to me
attempting to wash
away the blood
with tears
water and sorrow
mixing with
gore and anger
his gun hangs loose
in his hand
finger on the trigger
I watch as he
presses it against
his temple
loaded, bullet in
the chamber

A crying soldier
sitting next to me
wishes he could forget
the explosions and shouts
an aching scar
keeps him up at night
he grips the pistol
more firmly and
closes his eyes

A crying soldier sat
next to me
gun to his head
holding himself hostage
full of regret and
nightmares
he couldn't wash away
the red
he couldn't forget the
sounds of war

a single gunshot and
he's no longer crying
a man who fought in
a war that wasn't
his own
came home a
broken soldier
wounded past repair
armour dented and
sword rusty

The crying soldier
wipes his eyes with
his blood soaked
hands
but he's smiling
for the first time
in a long time