PTSD… WHO? ME?

They're in the wire,
night has turned to day.
Hootches on fire;
incoming NVA

All are dying,
or blown to shit.
I'm still firing
in my bunkers pit.

I can hear them,
they now see me.
I can see them,
they now hear me.

Closer they come,
closer still;
closer, closer, closer.

they are here,
I am out of ammo
rifles pointed,
fingers squeezing.

squeezing, fingers turning white,
squeezing, I am to die this night.
closer they come,
closer, closer, closer.

all are dead,
no hope for me.
All are dead,
bayonets pointed at me.

Closer they get,
closer, and closer
I can smell them.

I can see their eye,
through their rifle sites.
In moments I die;
white fingers in the night.

I awaken.

©Copyright April 10, 2007 by Fred Alvis