Stained


She told me to wash my hands
And that dinner was nearly done
It scared me how she said it
As if I was still her son
I am not her son.
At least not anymore
I am no one's anything
I am only war
And I cannot wash my hands
Christ, though how I've tried
Washing, washing, washing
But the blood on them has dried
She said to wash my hands
So I scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed
But no matter what I do
They stay drenched in blood
I wash and rub and scrape
Until they start to bleed
More blood, more blood, more blood
So I scrub more franticly
They are stained
I am stained
It cannot be cleaned
War is hell
It makes life hell
And it's taken all that's me
They talk like they don't see it
The blood dripping from my hands
I know they don't see it
Because they still treat me like a man
I am not a man.
Not when I've seen what I have seen
Faces torn, bodies rotting
Flesh hanging from the trees
I am not a man.
Not when I've done what I have done.
Blown up a thousand other men
And a thousand mother's sons
I cannot shake the pictures
Of dirt soaked red with blood
Of men with heads blown off
And severed limbs in mud
And they, they are the lucky ones
That get killed on the field
That aren't forced to return
To a world that seems surreal
It is not my world
Peaceful and serene
I am this war
Violent and obscene
It could have been my brother
That lay decaying in the dirt
Following me with dead eyes
That seemed eerily alert
I killed someone's brother
I killed someone's son
I killed someone's husband
Does that mean I have won?
Innocent from but minor sin
Why should their fate be to die?
Fighting for some unknown cause
Backed by shinning lies
They did not start the battle
But they are the ones to fight
Screaming in the darkness
Crying for the light
There is no honor
Few heroes in a war
There is screaming and cowardice
And filthy dead and gore
The filthy dead that I have killed
That will never see their homes
People that I never knew but
With their deaths, I am alone
It is their blood
That won't wash off my hands
A blood that seeps into me
A blood that takes command
Blood that must be washed with blood
Life that's paid with life
And I must pay my dues
I must end this strife
I cannot live like this
Their blood stains everything I touch
The pain, the guilt, the fear, the images
It's all just too much
I cannot clean these hands
Stains that will not fade
Screams that can't be shut out
Of the men that I have slain
The end of war only comes
As you take your last breath
There is no end to war
But for the sweet escape of death