By Michael Dingwell
There they go again, flickering through my mind,
Thoughts of death and friends, you know the kind;
I'm not sure where they're coming from, I'm not sure I care,
I know they're not going away soon, `cause they're always there.
Out of the corners of my eyes, a figure dashes past,
Just like the enemy in `Nam, they're really fast;
I can't ever tell what it is, or even if it's real,
Sometimes I don't even see it, it's just something that I feel.
Can't tell anybody, there's no one that I trust,
Don't want them to know, don't want them to judge;
I know I'm not crazy, I know the enemy's near,
Maybe I can't see him, but I sure as hell can hear.
He's been stalking me for a long time, since my partner fell,
Sometimes I can feel him, sometimes it's the smell;
Getting hard to sleep now, it must be getting close,
I wake up all the time, sensing him like a ghost.
He's wearing black pajamas, carrying his weapon low,
Sneaking up on me, waiting to deliver the blow;
I ain't afraid of dying, ain't afraid to fight,
It's just that sometimes, I'm not sure I'm right.
There it is again, a flickering in my eye,
He's a sneaky little bastard, or he's awful shy;
Wish my partner were here, and we both had a gun,
We were good together, we often fought as one.
But he checked out on me, he was KIA long ago,
Now I have to fight by myself, always so alone;
Everything in my head, it has to stay where it's at,
As I wait for my enemy, and the last attack.
Copyright © 7-25-95 By Michael Dingwell, All Rights Reserved