Not all Wounds Bleed



In Victorian times we locked them in, today we lock them out


Sitting in the street a plastic coffee cup at his feet

He looks OK to the passer-by, to the untrained eye

An idle bugger, junkie and terminally workshy

But this picture is very far from complete


He has behavioural issues this problem man

Loses his temper, raves incoherently at folk

He abuses alcohol, his mind wears a cloak

Of darkness, a member of a despised clan


Of nightmares he’s never free, his best mate stood on an IED

And now he suffers from the awful dreams

Of torn off limbs, and hideous screams

He’s a wounded soldier but it’s hard to see


Lest We Forget



© pronto 2023
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Rather few words but a great deal said. Very good!!


Hello Peter
, On such a day as this when we have witnessed the nation giving thanks to our hero’s from the past it is fitting to be reminded that there are still wounded men out there today. ‘Lest we forget’ should also apply to those who have served, and suffered in recent times.
I think you poem says it very well.
Regards, Michael

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