• Gunshots, bombshells, bleeding men,
    Terror, thrill, shots overhead.
    She fires, they fall. She looks around.
    No more life, blood soaked ground.
    The terror stops, so does the thrill.
    Filled with guilt, grief. A wail.

    Sorrowed journey home at last,
    But no return to home of past.
    Medals, honours for her crimes.
    Speaches given. Dead inside.

    Public praise too much to bear.
    Death no choice, her comrades there.

    Uniformed, as must be.
    To the stone-walléd entry.
    Isolation seeking, be alone.
    Empty halls, cold, of stone.

    There is a man, sees her first.
    Snaps to attention, salutes. The worst.
    She rushes past, "I'm not that-"
    His voice, so calm, pierces day.

    "Here comes a man,
    Here comes a soldier."

    Her arms, around his waist they clasp.
    He stands there firm, strong as stone.
    His shoulder wet, her tears at home.
    How could he have known her soul.

    Abrupt, she leaves, Understood.