Poem: The Game We Played

I've been fairly distraught lately with current international affairs. I feel people are being slaughtered in what is close to a genocide in Lebanon, Palestine, Iraq, and Afghanistan. Not to mention the real genocide still going on in Darfur. I wrote this poem to get out some of that pain about the world. It is in the perspective of a American Iraq Veteran who has PTSD and is starting to loose their sanity. It is fairly jagged in structure on purpose.

My sleep is disturbed
By the dropping bombs
From far away
That break in my slumber
Like a Giant
Swinging an axe by my head

The visions grow stronger
And my rest grows weaker
As I start to loose control
From the horrors that haunt me

The burning bodies
The deformed children
And my dead friends
Still speak to me

I break at the edge of my existence
Wanting to just sleep forever
To have been on the opposite
End of that gun I fired

To be the victim
Not the murderer
Spurned on by my training
To be a murderer and a hero
All at the same time

Wretched nights continue
And even more wretched days
As people say they are proud
Of what I have done

What have I done
Been a pawn in an oil man's game
To kill the poor
For the rich and their black gold

Kill Kill
Is the name of the game
And with childrens bodies
We play
And with childrens bodies
We play
Kill Kill
Is what we play
By: Aurora Jade Pichette
Date: August 6th, 2006