War Crimes


    You're war-torn,

And I'm battle - damaged,

I don't know what to do.

I am not the enemy,

I just wear the uniform.

The flag of truce hangs ripped and worn,

I can reach out my hand,

But I can't make you take it.

I try to say something,

But it all comes out in Russian.

I don't know how to make you understand.

How do we scrape a future,

From such a tortured wasteland?

Would you listen to my tears,

Or flare up anew?

I came to say the war was over,

To stand down,

To go home.

© Louis J. Brodigan 1993
Authorised for publication as per fair use, excluding
collections, public performance or mass duplication.

(again, reposted by a fan)
hylierandom hylierandom
Mar 11, 2012