An army man, and gruff;
Seeks refuge in a bottle;
A man’s man, and tough;
Always on his mettle:
This is a man with a thousand faces from the army,
Hammered out on the conveyor belt of responsibility, courage, Rules -
Thought is allowed, but stays mundane,
Solves problems within limits, but never strays beyond those limits:
There’s morality and integrity in spades, bravery in the face of the enemy,
Courage beyond courage -
But he’s running away inside.
From what?
Demons, for sure, that drove him here,
Yet without those demons he’d be nothing.
What can you do?
His path’s set -
Change the man and destroy the man:
Strong and on guard he forges unwaveringly through life,
Gripping tight to his certainty.
I’ve met a few ex-army men in my time. They go through the conveyor belt and come out the other side strong and certain within their limits, but there are often a lot of demons inside. And when you leave the army, and the certainty’s gone, the bottle often beckons.
