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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Military · #2228040
Fictional story about Vietnam War. One never knows if it is truly fictional.
John was headed to the mailbox and had this bad feeling.
He opens the lid and sees the draft card, soon he's kneeling.

Maybe he'd go to Canada, or just burn his draft card.
Should he go down to Mexico, or should he just discard.

John ran inside the house to show his Momma and his Dad.
His Momma started crying, but his Dad seemed to be glad.

Remembering lying in a hammock in his backyard.
Back when he had chores, but lived most his life with disregard.

But now John's in an airplane heading to South Vietnam.
His first memory, seeing the burnt bodies from napalm.

The mud and mosquitoes really sucked, catching him off guard.
Then some buddies died, some were shot, some tortured then charred.

John witnessed the hell, how to annihilate complete strangers.
But for Country and family, he vanquished most dangers.

Now new memories haunt his mind, froze and forever scarred.
Thinking back on the day, he should have torched that damned draft card.

Coming back to his homeland, he's greeted by protesters.
Calling names, spittin' on him, rebels to their protectors.

Still holding a rifle, John's marching in the honor guard.
His thoughts still marred, folding the U. S. flag at the graveyard.

For Veterans Group contest - July 2020
14 syllables per line
© Copyright 2020 Thaddeus Buxton Winthrop (franksimon at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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