What do you think this poem is about - war against the world, war against false reality, or war against self?
They said it was all in my head,
That the blasts and gunfire were of the past –
That the one I fought for did not even exist – they said it was all a myth.
They said the morning now covered the night; that I didn’t have to fight,
That my sight – no, my vision – was wrong and unclear as the murky waters of my mind.
But spilled was blood into those bodies of water, all my organs slaughtered – at the grasp of the enemy – they said I wasn’t a martyr –
And that I fought this fight against the air.
They said there were no villains and there were no heroes, and that I didn’t have to die to obtain the dream,
But that the dream lived outside my mind, and in reality would I find peace and a promise;
That life -
Is more than just about death and dying – it’s all about trying.
Then what was I ever fighting for? I questioned as I looked upon all my battle wounds – the scars that I wore like a decorated soldier having fought in all those dreadful wars.
But the scars were never there, they said.
It was all in my head.