My Battle

I ride out for my first battle

I return home physically unscathed

Emotionally I am vulnerable without armour I build the thickest kind

I return home from battle, the armour comes off

As the battles continue, it is never safe to remove

The battles rage on year after year, with no end in sight

As the deaths, and trauma pile up, I start to weary

No one sees my pain as my armour is too clean

I put my head down and battle on alone

I soon collapse on a hill, under a tree

My armour still unscathed

As I look down upon the decades of carnage, and horror in my wake I soon realize it is my soul that has been slain

I am bound in my armour, desperate to break free

As all that is left is a tin man called me.

S/Sgt. Rob Pritchett (retired)


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