Operation: My Price

Part 2 of a two part series based on conversations with a few veterans afflicted with PTSD.

It’s three am and I just passed out from my last drink

It is the one I hope obliterates my abilities to think

I was once a young soldier in the Navy

Mostly, those days of my life are rather hazy

I earned a silver star, and bronze times two

Once upon a time they gave me a gun and told me what to do

I was quite popular and tough and earned myself a name

Predator and hidden prey; war, the ultimate game

I was young and dumb and I could run

I earned many a ribbon for my marksmanship with a gun

I shot enemies I could not discern from far away

Senior citizens and veterans alike warned me of this day

I scoffed and shot and collected my pay

Not 2 or 3, but 4 tours of duty

My homecoming as a decorated hero was a thing of beauty

I lived it up and used my battle scars to impress my girl

Young adulthood came and went in quite a swirl

The service, they paid for my insurance and education

Life was grand, right up until I started abusing my medication

At home, asleep one night, next to my wife

When the nightmares slowly started to destroy my life

I jerked bolt upright in my bed

That was not a target; but rather a human being’s head

His face obliterated into a foaming sea of blood red

As I pulled the trigger that shot the bullet that took his life

He was my age back then, probably never got to make sweet love to a cherished wife

Every night now I see their faces in my sleep

I awaken my wife with screams as I rock and weep

I drink and dope and drink, but not for the buzz

It is the only way I can tone these images down to fuzz

I long ago quit showing up to work and lost my job

Each time I look in the mirror, I see a broken man, a murderer, a washed-out slob

Mostly I go to great lengths not to care

But sometimes I cannot ignore the tears my wife attempts to conceal beneath her hair

So I hauled myself off to the psychiatric unit of my local VA

I take their medications, and force myself to attend the veteran’s version of AA

I find it rather asinine that each time, they thank me for my service

When it is the very reason I have shot so far past being merely nervous

Some misunderstanding youngsters still refer to me as a war hero

I promptly inform them that I am indeed nothing more than a big, fat zero

“But what about all those ribbons, and the medals,” they point and say

I assault them viciously with my inebriated, sour, bitter breath as I lean in a whisper “They never had any intentions to invade anyway.”

Every night as I become comatose, I see clearly a new face of someone I blew away

Then I wake up, and it’s time to drink away another day

Before now it was never my war

The price I paid for my GI bill is to be eternally stuck with someone I deplore

But hey, I’m free of responsibility

As I was only just following the orders passed down to me

Reviews

[Texas Greg]

Aye! If you don't mind my saying so, I think you could convert to a short story. I would have to go back to see, but have you read "Dreaming Marine"? I think you have something here in the proper format...not taking away from your powerful poem. I would just like to see you take full advantage.

Good stuff!

[JourneyBlu]

Thank you so much for the feedback, I really appreciate it. I will check out your piece in a moment!