Thoughts in the Smoke
My thoughts drift away on the smoke
of my cigarette.
A mouth full of bourbon with a
chaser of regret.
Hereís to the bodies of the brothers
we couldnít find.
No such thing as no man left behind.
I wrestle with the visions of the blood stains
on my hands.
Suffering a sorrow no one truly understands.
Still tasting the desert in the back of my throat.
Scoffing at the thought of hope
Sometimes it helps to write it down
or so Iíve been told.
A heart in need of kindness as the
soldier grows old.
Wielding words as weapons to leave
the demons slain.
Orbiting the bottle at the perigee of pain.
So now I rest my weary head
in the corner of the bar.
Watching people come and go never
knowing who they are.
Perhaps tonight Iíll walk the train or
taste the barreled steel.
My only prayer is that they learn
the price we pay is real.