Why (Published Version)
Sometimes you just feel weak. You feel the weight of the world on your
shoulders, and you can feel the tendons and ligaments give out
underneath the pressure. Every muscle tissue in your body tears in
agony, but you got to reach down inside of you and get that mess out of
you before it manifests and destroys you.
You could look into my eyes and see joy but one billionth of a tenth of
a second the look can twist to hate. I have that switch inside me. It’s
about respect and the torture a man will go through just to swell with
pride. I live in a world where the majority of beings surrounding me
want nothing more to see me fail, see me dead, see me crushed. Beyond
these dirt walls is another world that Satan himself couldn’t match the
hells.
I’m on a choker leash like a dog as the politicians’ oceans away
debate at my destiny. Debate about my pay, and where I’m going while
eating a fine steak and lobster dinner. They don’t know the reality of
war for it’s not like they would ever have to walk up to a little
girl/boy and tell them mommy or daddy will never walk back into their
life. Turn around and cut funding for the designs and production of
possible lifesaving equipment. Precious funding that hell three less
rolls of toilet paper is severally felt to that soldier on the front
lines. Thousands of miles away from family stuck in a world unforgiving.
How do you build up a country when you tear down your own defenders?
There is no American dream in the families are tattered and torn from
the stresses. You get cheating wives, you get mangled bodies, and the
kids stuck in the middle. Well chock em up as another burden on society.
There are many unknown tortures of war and from the man on the frontline
to the man ordering the lead to supply the weapons we all feel them.
Underneath it all the armor the layers of tissue the mirage of
an American soldier I’m just a little boy at heart struggling not to let
my smile die. Aiming to keep my soul warm but it feels as if dry ice is
sitting in its place. Roll out of bed every day to the same madness
always expected to stand tall, never shall I fall. It’s that pride for
my country, for my family, for myself. I can stand up and say fuck the
politician that has me here. Death before dishonor and dishonor would be
the refusal of defending my country. Put another round in the chamber,
reach down and grab some fortitude and just fire off some more rounds.
When do I know when the switch is gone, when does the joy perspire from
my pores and empty into the sand. How long before it’s nonexistent.
It’s the struggle I fight every day. I know I’m doing well, but
whom for. Who bears the reward from my remorse? I am a soldier, and I
have duties laid out in front of me. Yet I question every day I wake up
in this country. Look over my body and say a silent prayer telling god
thanks. Thanks for the opportunity to live another day, to breath
another day, to have hope another day. Hopes that one day my mirage of
an American Dream can be a reality. A house, a beautiful wife, two kids,
two cars, and that’s my utopia. But for now I reach down and tighten up
my laces, rip apart at guts to find courage and scream at the world
thousands of miles away.
Everyday I hear people back home complain about the lives they
lead. Talking about all the problems America holds. They don’t really
know, they haven’t seen the fate of a little girl in a middle eastern
country. The same little girl that has scars all over her body because
punishment here is to place that child’s hands and feet in boiling
water. The news will never show you that hell. GAS? POOR PEOPLE? Really
we have poor fat people in America. If you want to complain I challenge
you to stand up and do something. If you believe it, achieve it. You
just tried on my shoes took a walk through my day and experienced my
form of proactive, struggles, and strife. America is the greatest nation
on Gods great earth and if you have a problem with something stand up
and stop being another whining scab on society. Will you answer the
challenge or you simply complain about what you just read and the lines
I crossed. The torch is in your hands. Will you drop it?
