And they come home talking dirty.
Talking like Nam.
Send guys to war
And they come home acting like Nam.
Once you are in Nam
Nam is in you. Guys never leave it behind.
Everything you do reminds you of the villages
Every sound you hear
Reminds you of Nam.
The war will follow you around, will tap you on the shoulder
Just to remind you that it is still there.
You can not forget Nam.
The war is the stone in your stomach
For the rest of your life.
It is the smell of firepower
And the noise of silence.
Silence will follow you too
When you get home, the quietness will trigger uneasiness.
Silence is your enemy, along with everything else.
Men killed, and died, because they were embarrassed not to.
That's what war was. War was my worst enemy.
Every man that left that war will carry it.
It is the things we carry.
Very good poem, my great uncle had PTSD and this seemed to be a very good representation of what it seemed he felt
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