Any Other Day
Today was like any other day, like any other day.
Everything seems to bother me. I wish I could go away.
Last night I thought of things, things that I could do;
But every morning it’s the same, I awake feeling so blue.
The doctors give me medicine but the pain still exists;
I live my life now looking through a lithium mist.
Eighteen pills a day I take to make it through the day;
My family suffers, yet they have never gone away.
I talk to the others; they pretty much feel the same.
Like we are the pawns in some ugly
filthy game.
Survival was our only sin; it is what wars all about.
Some have journeyed, taking the so called easy way out.
In combat we had each other, we never felt alone;
Returned to a world of strangers in what used to be our home.
Watching TV, remembering those we left behind;
Making it home, like dying, wasn’t kind.
I, like others am proud of what we did in the war;
I, like so many others hope there will be no more.
We cried for the dead, those that never made it home;
Now let’s care for the living, those that feel alone.
Michael
D. Monfrooe
July/August
1998