Walking through the storm
clothes soaked by the rain,
His head turned from the wind,
his world is not the same
A mirror of unknown faces
stare blankly through his eyes
To them, he does not exist
a no-one in disguise
They do not see the soldier,
youth beaten back by age
Battle-worn and scarred
from years of fear and rage
He signed up for the army
for his country and the cause
Trained to fight and kill
He fought in many wars.
He proudly served the Core.
earned medals in a box
Pawned to pay off his debts
When his marriage hit the rocks
A doorway now his only home
his possessions are what he wears
Catching sight of his reflection
of a face that no one cares
The hair, once shaved and neat
was now matted into knots
A symptom of the memories
of the weapons and their shots.
His family tried to help him
escape the pain inside his head
The visions of the gore and blood
and friends, he left for dead.
He cannot return to the life
that he knew before
Surviving is much easier
when your house is just a door
The rain pounded the city streets
and the waters rolled downhill
His cardboard bed washed away
that sheltered him from the chill
Where was his country now,
the humanity of us all
The safety net of social care
For the veteran: No longer standing tall.