wounded men

11.02.2011

Wounded men are everywhere

Their hearts are made of mud.

They don’t take their wounds with courage

They don’t heal.

They strike back, at you, if you stand close enough.

Wounded men, you cannot heal if you do not want to.

You won't find relief, 
or joy

if it be not the utmost thing you want.

You cannot really have a woman if you cannot love her.

You cannot have me if you do not love me.

And the sad thing is then

That nor can I have you.

Wounded soldiers, you have given up.

You have changed sides.

The enemy left you alive, but only because wounded you would fight against the home front.

Men with your hearts made of mud, you have abandoned us at war.

You have let us down.

It’s a shame

It’s a shame

It’s a shame

There was love in your heart and light in your mind

But you hold the key to both

And your guard dog is angry.

What ought I to do?

Ought I to stay here and fight

Perhaps to bury the dead amongst you?

Or do I cover my face once more, and walk on amongst this land infested

And live to tell your story to a better day?