1918

They came home bloody, battered and bruised The flower of youth have now grown old They have that 1000 yard stare from hard battle And have seen things no man should ever see Politicians declared war and sent their youth to fight Now peace has been negotiated and war is over. They came home but their loved ones didn't Recognise them, they were not the same Different, confused, suffering PTSD but they Didn't know what its was called, just shell shock. Some were executed for it, constantly pounded By shellfire, bullets, cry of the wounded echoing In their head and the dead, yes the dead littering The trenches and no mans land. Half buried in dank Sticky mud, half decomposed. War was and is hell And will always be. They were lions but led by donkeys.