Shellshocked Everyday

The heat of the war bears on my shoulders like
the weight of a thousand worlds

Shackled by the chains of ghosts around my wrist
crippling my ability to help myself

I sink into despair, that revolving well of disbelief and lulled satisfaction

If I had wings I would fly,
but since I don’t, I may die

Them flyboys get all the glory while real
men become part of history’s countless


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