Complex PTSD
The shame of shaken soldiers
runs
deeper than any ka-bar cut;
il cuore's battle-cries drowned
out by trains carrying boxes
that will contain them —
one day,
if they're lucky
Gli occhi dell'amore
crashed into reinforced glass
when she met the war-child's gaze —
"Is he cruel or courageous?,"
she asked, retreating
across the battlefield
"Is he cowardly or compassionate?,"
her morbid mind drifting
Peace has weakened me —
power taken, slow death
pain trapped, slow death
praise tainted, slow death
pieced together, slow death —
Apocalypse waiting for
the bliss of war;
sociable metal in the hands of
humans playing heroes and villains,
gods and devils
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