The Firing-Range.

Painted smile, ironed clothes,

Brain runs wild - no one knows.

Another day, another mess,

Another night - compounding stress

Scraping, sifting, climbing,

Alarm bells ringing, chiming.

Staying silent, out of sight.

Ten wars, one soldier - no flashlight.

Used, confused and bleeding.

Stuttered whispers of what I’m needing.

Repeating, restarting, replaying.

"Someone please hear what I am saying"

Barricaded, chained; walls of internal defiance.

An unknown soldier shouts - “take off your mask, I’ve heard your silence”