The Endless Fight

Posted on October 2, 2012

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A cough and a shuffle
He moves slowly across the room
No-one hears his mumbles
They don’t have a clue

Seventy-eight years his is
Struggles now to walk
Oh his youth he does miss
Eyes back then like a hawk

But now they milky and red
Not long now he thinks
Soon be dead
As he picks up his tea to drink

It’s been an endless fight
These past years
Where did it go this life
He sheds a quiet tear

Television plays to itself
As he grumbles alone
Talking to thin air and his cat bells
This quiet corner he calls home

Fought abroad he did
For his governments interests
There he taught kids to read
Then withdrew, left them all in a mess

Came back to no work did he
Like many others who were spat on
All he did was fight for the innocent and free
But it’s them who are always wrong

It’s always an endless fight
From birth until the end
Morning, noon and night
Why does his country he defend?

To sleep now, to sleep
So very tired
It’s the only time he’s free
Away from life’s burning fire

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Posted in: Poetry