by Rick Swing
So now you wannabe be like me,
But you didn’t way back when.
You think that where I walked,
was how they measured men.
But you didn’t have the courage,
to do it way back then.
You see these medals on my chest,
and think they are so fine.
But if you walked in my boots,
could you take this pain of mine?
I still have vivid memories,
of those who fought and died,
especially those who were in my arms,
as they went to the other side.
Because of things I’ve seen and done,
my mind is like a kalideoscope;
and sometimes sitting in the dark,
I wonder if there’s hope.
I am a mosaic human being;
with ultimate lows, and ultimate highs,
and I wonder how I still function,
with all these fragments of a shattered mind.
My back and knees still give me pain,
From humping a Ruck in mountain terrain;
sometimes I still feel the ruck upon my back,
And wonder if I’m sane.
I still walk on point,
and pull perimeter guard.
I still feel the animal,
still raging in my heart.
Many nights I dream of explosions, rockets,
and screams in the night;
and I wake up shaking in a sweat,
and screaming in the night.
To be like me,
has a very high cost;
sometimes I’m here,
sometimes I’m lost,
I would go through it all again,
and even plenty more,
if it would have you and my brothers,
out of that awful war.
I am not a hero,
as some like to say,
but I couldn’t handle the price,
that the heroes have to pay.
Your body is strong,
your mind without regrets;
while I hear the cries,
of a thousand suicidal vets.
The truth is,
if you only knew;
you wannabe like me,
and I wannabe like you!