(Poetry) 25 Years SeXStoRY

I was cleaning my rifle, pistols and my gear; these were my tools for the past six years. Now the bores are shiny and bright, And I swab the desert off those old battle sights. My webbing was worn and smelled of sweat. Many hours were logged wearing that vest. Ceramic plate armor was flaking and wearing away. I remember them saving me on so many days. Much like a sword, these tools were my soul, through days of torment and nights that were cold. I've seen the world through a professional soldier's eye and I still see the images that would make men cry. Almost twenty five years, I've carried a gun, as a cop on the streets or a soldier on the run. Once filled with innocence, and a patriotic heart now it haunts me everyday, tearing me apart. What will I tell my c***dren if I'm blessed one day… How did I make my money? How did I make my pay? With a pause and a smile I will take that in plus say with impunity that I had some sins. My opinion is jaded now due to mankind's greed… filling our pockets rather help peoples needs. Now those days are over and I can stay right here. With my f****y and friends so close and near.