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The man of whom
I’m about to speak,
Is a man so cold,
Yet mild and meek.

He’s a man
Who knew
What he
Had to do

To keep this
Country safe for
People like
Me and you.

This man
In Nam,
Dodged many
A bomb.

He watched
People die.
Many like
You and I.

They were mostly innocent,
Or so you might think;
Or would they stab you in the back
And an eye never blink.

Trust is something
There was little of.
It was mostly Faith
That came from Above.

Most of his tour
Was a living Hell.
And when he got home,
His pride nearly fell.

Here he was,
Home…. And free.
But himself he found
He could never be.

by John Black

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