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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