He went into the army.

Join up the recruiter said.

And he did and now he’s dead.

Not from the war had he died,

but by his  own hand, SUICIDE.

His parents grieved and shed some tears,

when handed the flag, that they loved so dear.

When ordered to kill and maim, he did with deep

pain, but he did as his country bid.

A good soldier he was trained to be, to shoot

straight and to kill to keep us free.

And so he did his deadly chore, away from home

on a distant shore.

But raised to honor life, avoid grief, avoid strife.

He now had to break those vows, and take the enemy’s life.

So back home the cheered and drank a toast, to his

achievements of which they would boast.

But alone one night when sleep wouldn’t come and the

drugs and whisky, could no longer numb.

He add one more to those he had killed and felt at last his

role fulfilled.

It is so sad and tragic  you see, for in his mind he became the enemy.