Do you know me?
The real me,
The tortured veteran,
That no one will see.

Do you understand what you see?
An American patriot who answered the call,
To be called baby killer and murderer,
Instead of Hero as all Veterans are.

Do you see the blood pumping in my veins?
Years ago it was pumping on the ground.
Where were you then, when I needed your help?
Or just needed a letter from home?

Do you see my incredible pain?
The pain caused by hippies of years ago,
And high school students of today,
who tell me we had no business in "that war".

Do you see my friends?
The ones who died in the sand.
The ones I lied to and told they'd be OK.
Do you see my friends on The Wall today?

Do you see the confused vet in front of you?
The one with so much to reconcile.
If we had no business in that foreign land,
Than why did my friends die?

Do you see my memories?
The ones that are killing me.
The ones that keep my gun to my head.
Where are you when memories are all I have?

Do you see these parts of me?
Or, like most, do you chose not to see?
Do you turn your back on your veterans,
And still expect them to be there?

©Ben Drake (1999)