A Week of Competition

The trip that took me far away,
On a warm and sunny day,
Was for a week of wheelchair games,
With others who helped to serve and save.

Racing chairs with those minus limbs,
Only caused me to look within,
One who never could behave,
Wounded as I was,

Went to serve and save,
But is anything just?
My mind messed up so long ago,
With no place to turn or go,

Poured myself into a bottle,
All I wanted was to throttle.
The one who caused my inner pain,
But I was taken far away,

So I could serve my country,
But took that bottle along with me.
Sad to say, my service cut short,
Because of feelings I couldn’t abort.

The bottle turned me into someone,
I never wanted to be,
When I left them, my job undone,
Yet I still could not see,

What really caused the pain in me.
It happened oh, so long ago,
I couldn’t run away,
From something I could not let go,

He gave to me to stay.
Feelings of blame and shame,
For I was the one who didn’t say,
Stop, for he’s to blame.

A future planned when I was young,
All the things I could have done,
Was all just washed far away,
Drink after drink, day after day.

I served with those who deserve the honor,
To be called disabled vets,
Yet I still feel still so minor,
Not ready to really compete, quite yet,

But still go through the motions,
Winning game by game,
Competing with those who in some way paid,
These games were meant to bring new life,

For those who were wounded,
And no longer wanted to try,
All our dreams have been drained dry,
Wounded without,

Wounded within,
Yet we all get together and try,
To feel alive again.
The games I won,

But life I lost,
Due to the one,
I hate the most.

– van –

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