For all my brothers who still feel the pain. You are not alone.
The Old Cowboy Poet Vietnam 1968/69
The guns have grown silent and still
Their deadly shells no longer kill
In that far away land called Vietnam
Where bombs and rockets once slammed
Across the ocean through clouds on air we returned
So many horrible images in our young minds burned
The monsoon rains have from our backs dried
But not all of the pain and tears we still cry
Lost in the history of all great wars
Soon to be just old stories and lore
All that can be written can never tell
What each soul suffers in his personal hell
Long sleepless nights with the ghosts
Of other sleepless nights on lonely outposts
None can ever understand the deep pain
Feel the endless trouble and strain
We live with this demon fighting each day
Searching for a way our feelings to convey
Do not turn from us who suffer inside
Remember that we still have honor and pride
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