The Rising Sun (In Baghdad).

Unpublished Works, © 2007, BillyPauleyJr.*

The Rising Sun (In Baghdad).

The rising sun in Baghdad,
Smells like blood of yesterday,
The haunting is in your soul,
And on your face,
In the seconds before the warning,
Is one last chance to wash it away,
But you choose not to forget,
With no water there to waste,

And the rattle of the tank tracks,
Like a ball and chain ring true,
Sounds of crushing earth,
Weighs on you,
Your body armor molds you,
To fit a body bag,
The chip upon your shoulder,
An American flag,

With terror in your heart,
You damn the dying brave,
If smoking ever kills you,
It will not be today,
In the hail of bombs and bullets,
There’s nothing to regret,
In the face of your survival,
You forget,

There’s no time for politicians,
Who do not know your will,
There’s no time to stay alive,
Only time to kill,
The rising sun in Baghdad,
Will wake you from the night,
It will keep you in a war zone,
For your life,

Far beyond the sands of Victory,
Your soul will never rest,
There’s no comfort in the valor,
Upon your chest,
Your disease, it has a name,
For your Service to put on a shelf,
Another way to make you bleed,
Into the shape of everyone else,

Still the war fights on inside you,
The dreams, they take you back,
And you become the enemy,
That you attack,
The anger that destroys you,
Is the same that makes you complete,
You find it quite ironic,
You can’t be free,

Without suicide you can’t kill it,
Without happiness you can’t breathe,
In your mind that sounds redundant,
Without sleep,
The tanks are so demanding,
You even hear them when awake,
The screams of terror pounding,
The bounds about to break,

The rising sun in Baghdad,
Your haunted soul still sees,
Smells like blood of yesterday,
In your dreams.

- WillyToad*

… this is a Smokey the Toad™ production.