ramblings and things

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I'm still your son mam but I'm not the same;

Since I've added a number to my name,

Had a razor used to shave my hair,

Sweated my blood on that drill square,

And I've slept in mud and I've eaten shit

And, unlike  before, got muscles in my spit.

Got a rifle and a bayonet, been taught to kill,

And if I need to I know that I will.

Been called baby killer,

Murderer hypocrite, 

Sat on a train

Face dripping with spit.

I'm still your son mam

But I'm not the same: 

I wear the khaki 

Without any shame 

Took an oath

To defend this land

And people like that

Just don't understand.

They live their life and their speech is free

Because of the work of people like me.

If I wake you up screaming in the night

Don't worry mam! It'll be all right.

What we've done, and what we've seen

At times come to taunt us in our dreams.

I'm still your son but I can never be the same

Since I added that number to my name.

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