The Demons Remain
Beneath the weight of endless skies,
A Soldier stood, with hollow eyes.
The war was over, or so they said,
But in his mind, his war was fed.
No bombs, no blood, no cries for aid,
Just silence now, where his demons played.
Each breath he took, a weight, a cost,
With each step he took, another lost.
His brothers gone, their voices still,
The demons remain, they always will.
They whispered dark beneath his skin,
No way out, no way to win.
He held the line, he did his part,
But death had taken half his heart.
The rest was crumbling slowly each day,
In a world that steadily slipped away.
He sought escape, but none was found,
Just a deeper hole, a darker ground.
He wore the face they all believed,
But inside, he was deceived.
His hands were steady once, now they shook,
He couldn’t stand to bear another look
At the hollow man he’d come to be—
A shell of who he used to be.
In the dead of night, alone at last,
He made the choice to end the past.
With a loaded gun and a heavy sigh,
He closed his eyes and said goodbye.
The final shot, a flash, a sound,
A life reduced to blood on the ground.
No hero’s end, no bugle’s call,
Just a darkness now, that covers all.
Although we speak his name again,
A Soldier lost, an indescribable end.
The wars are over now, or so they say,
For many these wars never go away.
© Jake Kingler, 2024
.
