The smell of death stole my morality and my innocence. <br />About the time I turned twenty; almost overnight <br />I’d forgotten how to play peaceful like…. <br />the weapons were real. <br />Having been trained to kill or be killed <br />in fewer than three months <br />by our nation’s best, I had known <br />from the outset of the war; <br />I didn’t want to wind up like grandpa’s <br />Uncle Bob. The toothless <br />part with the missing teeth I could <br />handle but paralyzed <br />from the neck down and my gun shooting blanks; <br />there was no way <br />if I could help it, <br />that was ever going to be me. <br />But as sure as I’m sitting here today….. <br />It was always a possibility..... <br />and a sacrifice I was willing to make <br />along with my band of brothers <br />for a free America.... <br /> <br />2008 © TS<br /><br />Ted Sheridan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-didn-t-send-home-dead-i-sent-home-dead-heroes/
