WORDS OF THE LIVING

(PTSD)

The smoke is searing
Fiery flames are not disappearing
Vibrant yellows, sunset reds
Lick, beside our makeshift beds
Marshmallows in front of the campfire
Remembering the quagmire
Planes over head, typhoon and spitfire

Sounds of violence
Surround us
If now, only inside our brains
We cannot see the planes
Only the sound remains

Fiery flames
Military aims
Searing smoke
Gunfire, as we awoke
Mellow yellows, blood reds
Men dying in their beds
Others see them, dying in their heads

This is the sound of war
Like nothing ever seen before