They have a lot of different names
For those returned from war;
The countless walking wounded
Without an obvious scar.
Some like to call them hero,
And others simply vet;
The label matters little
But we must not forget,
Their nights are sometimes haunted
By dark and dreadful dreams;
Awaking bathed in clammy sweat,
Still tortured by the screams;
The burdens that they carry,
Their silent, secret pain,
The struggles they must oft endure
To find some peace again.
No matter what the cause may be,
The price of war is high;
If we would truly know the cost,
Look deep into their eyes.
Poem written by HarleyGal