theGuardian's Journal

There are those that walk among us, and the world don't know their name.
Existing, more than living, each day's more of the same.

We pass him on a sidewalk, in a small mid-western town.
We see her waiting on the city bus, the streetlights shining down.

Who are these people dressed as us, a strangeness on their face?
Who seem to move to a different drum, at a tense and cautious pace.

There's a demon lives within them, they struggle to control.
He keeps the monster deep inside, she's afraid to just let go.

She carries when she's out at night, he trusts no one he meets.
They'll go to shops & restaurants, but feel safer on the streets.

They can't devulge the rage within, the anger that they feel.
For no one else can understand a shell of hardened steel.

It takes a Herculean effort, just to keep the beast at bay.
They find some unknown inner strength to make it one more day.

But as the years drift slowly by, the steel begins to rust.
And soon they lose the only thing they feel they can trust.

Their mind begins a slow rewind to pictures of the past.
And then they start to wonder, how much longer they can last.

Some turn to alcohol and drugs, some slowly waste away.
Some put the pistol to their head and ask "Is this the way?".

For some it is, but others, just can't seem to follow through.
They pray tomorrow holds some hope, that they can be like you.

Who are these ticking time bombs, that spend too much time alone?
These poor souls are the Vietnam Vets you never welcomed home.

~TheGuardian.