Twitching in a trench
Rifle to my shoulder
All around me the stench
of dead bodies growing older.

Why did I survive?
Who decided my fate?
Should I stay alive?
Or be the enemy’s bait?

I hear marching boots
Cowardly I feign
As above pass khaki suits,
Thinking I’ve been slain.

Guilt strikes at my heart
As I peruse the lands twists & bends
Slowly I depart
And leave my rotting friends.

Back 2 base, report.
Offer some retort.
To my deep set psychoses
Appearing with my crises.

Forever tainted,
Forever scarred.
Emotionally painted
Physically marred.