they make ranches for folks like us.

they train us to be sociopaths then cringe when we wake up to the sweat-induced nightmare of internal war. they didn’t train us on how to navigate battlefields no one else can see nor do they admit to being the trainers. our thoughts are wmd’s and these ranches are hidden away places where we’re allowed to detonate without consequence.

there are no trees, yellow ribbons or parades in sight to welcome us when we return home. we’re unmoved by lack of care and understanding. we march ever forward fixated on tasting every version of potato salad dropped like bombs on our misguided plates.

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