Ptsd

our Jeeps pulled into hanger four as we saluted our first Sgt my thoughts were racing again as home became a vivid battle zone of raw emotions several caskets lined the entrance way inside of the chanook bravely I'd placed flags on each one clutching my dogtags trying to remember my name it could have very well been Col Sgt or perhaps private Kennedy I focused solely on the name tags of the fallen my mind settled into an untimely grief where I'd forgotten my duffel bag behind leaning against a stone walk way inside carrying a pasttime of glory forgotten was my mind mingling about sorted nerves of steel that shattered apon take off over high calm waters as I noticed a sea of dark tears I bottled them for souvenirs