Poetic-Verses
110,818 poems read
When will we stop destroying men in war?
I am not speaking of the dead—
Their blood has blessed the soil where they fell
But the men who came home unable to talk
To their wives about what they saw or what they did
Who twitch at a loud noise and sit with their beer
Waiting as they waited for what might let them go home
To think about their buddies who didn’t make it.