Some Hero

I wish you could see..

The blood that stains my skin.

Am I the only one?

Please, notice the puddles of blood around my feet.

Or listen, to the screams echoing as I walk in a room.

This is what I've done.

Yet here you all are,

Proud as hell,

Like I'd won the war myself.

Haven't you heard, of the men I killed,

Of the ones, I beat to death,

Or even the children I made cry.

I took lives that weren't mine to take.

How can you stand there, smiling?

Commending me for these f*****g sins.

I don't want you to see me as an honorable man.

I'm a monster, this flag I hold,

Is my only defense, for the wickedness within me.

So please, take it from me.

I can't stand the blood soaking through me..

Take your goddamn hands from my face.

I don't need your f*****g sympathy,

I need you to hate me.

Hate me until my blood is spilled too,

Even then, forget me.

 

 

Reviews

[Skye Céibhfhionn]

What can I say?
It's running as a mantra in a man that cannot get rid of the memories. Faces never stop coming by the minds eye; screams never shut up; and silence don't bring a soothing embrace. There is such a limit to the understanding of the experienced mayhem; smiling faces can show a joy for the moment of realization that they didn't have to do it, because others did. The self guilt is enough punishment for the masses; and for the heroes come the controversing emotions of doing what was to be done, but it doesn't feel alright. Moral and Ethics before Honor and Loyalty? They can rarely coexist.

I have experienced the long nights with memories haunting a sleeping soul, woken up with a man forgetting his human condition, reliving the seconds of monsterlike endeavor, as if the worlds can overlap eachother, when the mind cannot hold its tension. I have also held the same soul crying; as if he would never be able to stop; broken and shattered and left in there somewhere on his own. Spit on, smiled at, hated, loved..
It's hard being the wife trying to keep the husband together; forge the pieces shattered by drums and trumpets, commands and foreign languages, and death. To try and soothe what can never be healed, try and understand without ever laying hands on/see/smell..
And sit silently watching him sleep, not understanding how far apart the worlds are, suddenly.. That the man who left, is not the same coming back.
I still saw my love when looking at him; he never understood that thing.

To kill but never be a killer; to haunt but never bring home the price. To sacrifice but rarely be rewarded for the loss of senses, and lives, and emotions. To never be given back the innocence each being brings and holds.

I don't know how anyone can do it; but I am grateful that *I* don't have to. And I can spend my life wishing it didn't need to be done, and never find its reality of just that.

It leaves one frustrated, reading this and at the same time understand the confusion having been there and heard it screaming in the walls. Life is suddenly black and white and noone paint the gray. People here are left searching for a life long gone, and peace that never can be restored. THIS is reality for the many.

Don't forget.

Skye

[Wildecat]

This is definitely a powerful poem, makes a person really stop and think. Nice job.

[fotini]

wow!!!it's great!!!
it seems that this person you're describing wants so badly to be loved and is so hurt that he's trying to make everyone around him hate him!
you have made it seem so real!!!so davastating real...

[deadlife]

Mind blowing!
Wow!
You took my breath..For a moment..it just hits at the core of my being..every word like a hammer it's hitting my soul. I don't know what i'm writing it might not be a review but it is what i am feeling now. I'm numb. This is the truth. The blunt brutal naked truth. Each word strikes hard. I'm feeling this rage flowing in my veins..hearing those screams.. This is something i felt when i watched The Last Samurai first time. I was like dumb..now i'm numb!
Hats off to you.
I'm sorry for such an abrupt review..but it's taken my senses. I'm sorry.
Thank you for writing such a stupendous piece.
Blessings. . .