You sit there with a fixed stare, the thousand yard don’t care, but your mind’s left behind in the firefights you went through,
and they watch you, tut-tutting, he should be put in a home, someone buts in and says, but he’s a general or he might have been if he’d not seen the things that he’d seen.
and you listen there with the fixed stare
and all you hear is fear.
© 2019, John Smallshaw.