Alone.
My most hated time.
That of which I would have the least,
I am punished with the most.

This time alone is thrust upon me,
By those who can't understand.
And is chosen by me as solitude,
As my need to escape from them.

At family gatherings, I am alone,
In the midst of all who know me.
I look at them and see they care,
But they look away to avoid my stare.

My mother turned her back,
She will no longer face my troubles.
This left me feeling unwanted and deserted,
And intensified my being alone.

My children haven't seen me in years,
I have no blame in my heart for them.
They lived through years of tears,
And I wish I would have been alone back then.

Our government sees us no more,
Our President draft dodged our war.
When I go to Washington, DC,
Alone by myself is what I see.

Twice I have been to The Wall,
58,209 heroes, etched in stone, on the Mall.
Thousands of visitors every day,
And yet, except for the dead, alone is all I feel.

Who do I blame for being alone?
Who caused my most terrible times?
Who do I blame for driving me into my most hated time?
VietNam...I blame you.
 

©Ben Drake (1999)