Screaming for relief.
Lost all belief.
Everything loud and nervous.
Thank you for your service.
*Author’s note: Writing poetry in the modern era of the AI content landfill is hard enough, let alone I only know of one poet today who earns a living from his work. So I appreciate you sharing this and commenting if you found it useful or relatable. -Brandon
WAR MACHINE
The gears keep turning long after the shooting stops, grinding youth into dust, spitting them home hollow and loud-eyed, and then dressing the damage up with a neat little “thank you for your service.”
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