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Sundays
(27/03/1990 / Flinders Medical center, South Australia, Australia)

Sundays

Poem By Aparna Mirajkar

Broken man walking the street.
Feels the pain in his feet.
Pounding noises, in his head.
Everyone he sees as dead.
Living harsh, can't sleep at night.
Life to him is one long fight.
He pushes the needle into his vein.
Does he really think it will quench the pain?
Beer bottle, he's nearly drunk.
Got in a brawl with a street punk
Runaway train right off the rails.
Broken men fill up the jails.

As he rots in his cell.
His mind races back to hell.
Droning hateful rotor blades.
Graves dug, by bloodstained spades.
Why did they spit on him, when he cried?
Why didn't they care, when his friends died?
He enrolled, seeking a thrill.
He was changed, forced to kill.
Loneliness is his only friend.
Broken man, how will he end?

User Rating: 5,0 / 5 ( 2 votes ) 3

Other poems of MIRAJKAR (6)

Comments (3)

There is always a great need for understanding and compassion, also a need for the future protection of all people from such things.
i never would've guess that was what this poem was about but i like it all the saem very intense filled with double meanings i think. Lylyanna
Just for those who didn't catch on, this poem is about Post Traumatic stress disorder suffered by war veterans (Primarily Vietnam Veterans) .


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