Battered and worn out
Like an old tire,
You came back
A soldier returning from war,
Half-crazed,
A ghost-like creature,
Haunted by blood spilled
Haunted by the terrors of battle
No trumpet sound for your glory,
But poverty awaiting you
While to the national cake,
Your erstwhile comrades help themselves!
(c) P. Chidavaenzi, 2010Your erstwhile comrades help themselves!
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