I must confess an uncomfortable common truth. One we refrain and refuse to refute. Written as a whisper, quiet words we shan’t dispute. We, war fighters, who built the frame to sleep so tight, we all died in that strife, our eyes see no light.
The slow Reaper trot, fuels my desire to etch stories that should not be forgot. This, a welcome Reaper creep IS my final friend, a cold choke on my throat, at the bitter end.
Before I introduce this ice-cold connection, pray for salvation, from every domination. Glance your gaze and don your Armor, slice now here this page, that’s glazed with pitch-black rage. Break the seal, one of seven, to welcome this math path to Heaven. My dark weight seized among these easy words, outsmarted extraction, while raced to cease violence of action.
Unbeknown at the time, my solemn crypt was cast on a fridged dawn, early in ’01. I raised my hand to signal a solemn pledge, then welcomed as a corpse, of our living dead. The casualties continue, in this timeline, with naught a solution for why, our loved ones must die. What, I dare, can one be done, to reduce this use of patriotic refuse? Your most valuable fight, we fractured fighters, are left with an empty goodnight. Reduced alone to suffer, then beg for our distant wailing mother.
I’m tired to say farewell to friends. A last grasp at goodbye, my absent friends who need not die. Too many good, crash to ashes, a deluge of broken hearts are left in their stead, a cycle of pain drips from us living dead. After two decades of searching for air, my feet are firm, and my eyes are clear. From my now steady stance atop brilliance, the cadence of this dark dance is clear. Unwelcome hard wisdom, earned through spite, from a lifetime stuck, in this cortisol fight.
A wide lens, a must to see, the Dark one revels, in our Earth-bound misery. I no longer fear my unwelcome ally. Instead in my head, I now embed, in this written dread, he who plots to cast me dead. I ripped him out but keep him close by, a reminder of the night, when I almost died. The frequency of words and harmony of love, excised the demon straphanger, written above. I’m on the other side, leading the way, it’s a beautiful world; please, just stay with me for one more day.
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Scott “Longboard” Chapman served in 2nd Battalion 75th Ranger Regiment from 2001-2005. He deployed to Iraq during the 2003 invasion and then to the Afghan theatre 4 times. After the military, Scott worked in the executive protection space and then as an OGA security contractor. Providing security support to the Intelligence community where he deployed 17 times; mostly to the Forward Operating Bases (FOB). He provided security support for Intelligence personnel and operations. Scott continues to work in the contract security area. https://scottchapmanauthor.com/
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