Memories Like A Splinter

I sit in on the edge of my bed,

Sweating profusely,

And shaking like a leaf in the wind,

Hearing the screams all around me,

Screams of torment,

And of agony;

Memories for the war surface,

The blood and the guts never go,

They're always in my mind,

Like a splinter,

Slowly but effectively driving me mad.

- Michael Hall