Voices From Inside

He was a man of many voices All making a disparate whole And by day you never knew Which one would take control. Some days you wouldn't know The persona on display Wouldn't know the voice Or what it had to say. And he would wander the town Shouting, screaming, yelling, Such a story to share, Wanting folk to hear its telling. He would stand and berate Strangers passing by They couldn't get away Though they didn't all try. Some days the voice was A known one of reason And then he was a pleasure Like a good fruit in season. He didn't know about those other days, Those of anger pain and frustration, Just had longs gaps in his memory Of those, to us, dreaded occasions. We wondered if he suffered, If to him it was a mental rape And was he trapped inside His voices unable to escape. He didn't make old bones: One of those voices decided And from the Humber Bridge He and that voice suicided. We held a silence at his funeral And then for an old friend's sake Toasted him long and thoroughly At his memorable wake. He was a man of many voices But to us he had just one And we were all so very sad His voice of reason had gone. He'd survived tours of Afghanistan, Had served his Regiment with pride But he just couldn't fight any more Those voices from deep inside. Just another of war’s walking wounded Physically sound and whole But deep down inside just Another of war’s tortured souls.