Rocky
19-11-06, 15:58
AMERICA’S VIETNAM WAR SURVIVING DEAD
It seems like a thousand years,
Yet, like only yesterday,
That we roamed a jungle hell,
In search of an illusive, human prey.
It wasn’t as if they were human,
We were taught the enemy was the ultimate prey,
And the adrenalin rush of close combat
Caused us to act as if insane.
We didn’t realize it then,
Some of us wouldn’t for years,
That our future would be filled with days of anger,
Our nights with cold, sweating fears.
We’ve reached out for a helping hand,
Just hoping to be understood,
But on deaf ears our words have fallen
Our government does not stand by us as it promised it would.
In hyper-vigilance our days are spent,
Starting at sudden noises, panicking in large groups,
Forever looking over our shoulders,
We still search for those illusive enemy troops.
Perhaps to die in combat,
Would for us have been best,
Rather than enduring the pain of hell’s memories,
We pray for a mere moments rest.
We suffer within and in silence,
Not really trusting anyone,
Many who could not bear the pain alone,
Eventually swallowed the barrel of a gun.
When will it end,
Can anyone truly tell,
Will we ever know peace and joy again,
After spending a life time in our minds hell.
Until our final day comes,
It’s not dieing but living that we dread,
As we aimlessly wonder through out life time,
America’s Vietnam War surviving dead.
Written for those who know the pain and suffering of PTSD
By: Jerry ‘rocky’ Stone
173rd Airborne Brigade
Charlie Co. 75th Inf. Airborne Rangers
27 Nov. 1997 sal;
It seems like a thousand years,
Yet, like only yesterday,
That we roamed a jungle hell,
In search of an illusive, human prey.
It wasn’t as if they were human,
We were taught the enemy was the ultimate prey,
And the adrenalin rush of close combat
Caused us to act as if insane.
We didn’t realize it then,
Some of us wouldn’t for years,
That our future would be filled with days of anger,
Our nights with cold, sweating fears.
We’ve reached out for a helping hand,
Just hoping to be understood,
But on deaf ears our words have fallen
Our government does not stand by us as it promised it would.
In hyper-vigilance our days are spent,
Starting at sudden noises, panicking in large groups,
Forever looking over our shoulders,
We still search for those illusive enemy troops.
Perhaps to die in combat,
Would for us have been best,
Rather than enduring the pain of hell’s memories,
We pray for a mere moments rest.
We suffer within and in silence,
Not really trusting anyone,
Many who could not bear the pain alone,
Eventually swallowed the barrel of a gun.
When will it end,
Can anyone truly tell,
Will we ever know peace and joy again,
After spending a life time in our minds hell.
Until our final day comes,
It’s not dieing but living that we dread,
As we aimlessly wonder through out life time,
America’s Vietnam War surviving dead.
Written for those who know the pain and suffering of PTSD
By: Jerry ‘rocky’ Stone
173rd Airborne Brigade
Charlie Co. 75th Inf. Airborne Rangers
27 Nov. 1997 sal;