The Devil’s End

By Bobbi Johnson

There’s a dark, lonely place in certain lives

Where only combat Veterans can go

For those who were scared

Or those that have feared

This is the Devil’s End.

Has nothing to do with their bodies

It’s a trap only the mind may enter

From thoughts that they have

Of what they have done

This is the Devil’s End.

You can glance at their somber expressions

Or witness their forced plastic smiles

But this is their mask

Which they constantly wear

This is the Devil’s End.

Take a second; gaze into their curious eyes

Notice that thousand-mile-stare?

That isn’t a clever ruse

Nor is it meant to belittle

This is the Devil’s End.

Most of the time they are quietly silent

And others they really seem smug

Their chatter most vague

Off on strange tangents they go

This is the Devil’s End.

Yet this is a place that needn’t be so

It comes from how a Veteran is treated

When the military forces a backbone

Then families scream obedience

This is the Devil’s End.

Once a strong, healthy soldier, able to fight

Firing guns, jungle rot, far from home

And upon their return

Are asked by loved ones to change

This is the Devil’s End.

Visualize a rape, brutal and vicious

Where trauma becomes rife in the mind

Could we dare to ask her?

To simply forget what happened?

This is the Devil’s End.

Imagine blood dripping fresh off a hand

Stare at its color, warmth and thickness

It may be fascinating now

But the stain will be ever present

This is the Devil’s End.

Because the hand is now a bloody mess

It’s permeated deeply into the soul

To touch someone else

And soil them as well…no, no, no

This is the Devil’s End.

Nights so unending, fear; almost a sexual partner

Twisting, turning and soaking the sheets

Bolt awake, all alone again

And you know you’ve been fucked

This is the Devil’s End.

Sad to say the Veterans can’t be fixed

Nor do they even want the help

Their pain is a badge

Of what they have done

This is the Devil’s End.

They’ve been asked to shut off their instincts

How can they trust who they really are?

Families tell them they’re wrong

They retreat to a ‘bunker’

This is the Devil’s End.

Like animals caged from becoming rabid

Chewing its own limbs to escape

Veterans are trapped

From societies own hate…and

This is the Devil’s End.