My Brother

To live and die with PTSD.

Tears run down the face of a tortured soul,
Before they hit the ground they turn to balls of snow,
Because he is stone cold, but he blows hot coals,
That means he’ll flip, he's been through shit, that you wouldn't know,
Or couldn't comprehend anyway so,
What's the point my brother,
In Iraq they tried to kill my brother,
Shot him in the back, trying to save his brother,
Stare straight my brother,
At your plate, with your mother,

It's the 25th of December,
But that's a date, he don't even remember,
Because the only thing he hears when a cracker pops,
Is women screaming and frantic shots,
And they don't know, because they weren't there,

They don't know that the gravy float, 
Reminds him of a navy boat,
And when it trickles, on the chicken, it's like blood from a ladies throat,
I mean sure,
Killing civilians shook him to his core,
But he remembers those words, all fair in love and war,
And lately he can't shake the thought,
That maybe freedom doesn't exist,
Because for him to live, someone dies, is freedom worth the risk,
Plus if he's lucky and survives,
He's still haunted in his mind,
Check the unexpected twist,
That's real freedom, is just a myth,

So now he's pissed,
Closed fists,
Shaking wrists,
Enough to turn the Pope into an Atheist,
And they gave him a medal of honour,
A welcome home party and a medal of honour,
And it sits on the table in his mums front room,
And she tells all her friends, what her son had to do,

What her son had to do,

If only she knew,
She would be riddled with guilt with all the shit he's been through,
Because she raised him in a nation,
Where the puppet master raped him,
When he was an infant,
Now a victim of Stockholm Syndrome,

That's a wound that will never heal,
That's a truth they will never feel,

He's having flashbacks to a war zone,
When he was partnered with a boy in uniform begging to go home,

This boy grabbed his hand,
So he pulled his hand away,
Told him to be a man today,
“You're not going to die okay”,
But then he got shot,

Then he got, Shot,

As the boy's life began to fade, 
His eyes bled “You let him shoot me”,
Someone tell these kids, this is not like Call Of Duty,
Mothers dressing in all black,
Kids are breaking their back,
Carrying coffins,
Way too often, 
Falling off of the beaten track,
Getting lost without a map,
And that's the story of our youth today,
So tell me again why they are to blame,
If they want to take God's name, in vain, and curse it,
Because either he doesn't exist, or all we deserve it,
But if he let's this happen and we don't deserve it,
Then was the worship, worth it,

These thoughts mixed with liquor is what's damaging his brain,
But nothing hurt more than when he stepped off that plane,
See he saw that boys mum,
Through all the love and admiration,
All the pain and desperation,
And she's clutching a picture of her son's graduation,

Which makes him freeze,
She grabs hold of his hand as she falls to her knees,
The same hand her son grabbed before he started to bleed,
And gave his life,
Jesus Christ,
This is hard for him to see,

Because her soul is aching,
Her heart is breaking,
She still manages words through lips that are Shaking,
But what she said next was just too hard to take in,

She said “Why didn't you save him”

Guilt weighs heavy on the purest heart,
He thought about suicide when given half a chance,
He swore he wouldn't, but the thought creeps in after dark,
Was sure he couldn't, but these days it don't seem so hard,

Plus nobody will explain,
How to maintain,
A sane brain,
Through all of the pain, and blame,
So he will aim, at his brain,
Like Cobain,
Bloodstain, the window pane,
Like rain,
But he can't handle firing a weapon again,

So a noose will do the same,

His heart froze but he's sweating as he climbs the chair,
Angel's can't fly, when there's death in the air,
Heroes can die, and the world don't care,
He would try, not to cry, but that working is rare,

So his tears hit the suicide note,
As he began to choke,
He said a last prayer, but no one cared, to give him hope,
I wish that I was there, when he was scared, to cut the rope,
I would have told him “Life ain't fair, but I'm prepared, to help you cope”

You're not alone my brother,
You're not alone,
Pick up the phone my brother,
We're always home,

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