Literal Brutality

Some will talk; Some have nothing to say,
there are those that will tell you,
to just simply, " Go away."

None want you to patronize,
they don't want your tears-
They need you to familiarize-
to understand the fears.

Don't pat them on the back,
they aren't disoriented or confused.
You see? They've seen the real world,
and still they carry the load of the accused.

Yes, they've taken life,
but not near as many as they've saved.
They've been dedicated to sacrifice,
they've returned hope to the depraved.

They've tasted war; None care for it's bitterness,
they've witnessed it's mayhem and destruction.
It's fiery flames has scorched their souls,
and they've choked on it's blunt obstructions.

I've heard the changing tones in their voices-
I've saw the tears well in their eyes-
I've held their hands and felt them quiver-
when recalling, the fall en's death cries.

Through their stories they've taken me,
into the villages, jungles and foxholes.
And never have I felt as safe,
as when my hand they would hold.

Unless you've been there it's hard,
to comprehend the brutality of it all,
For war is hell; Literally- and I'm
grateful they answered the call.