Young,
Tanned and free,
Beaming smile of innocent glee;
Carefree,
Flicking the untamed fringe from his eyes.
A boy
Not yet tuned to politicians lies.
Tanned and lean,
Happy and keen.
They put a uniform on him;
Made him part
Of their killing machine.
Stiff leather boots,
Polished to reflect
The regime's aspirations;
Not his own ambitions.
They cancelled fun,
Gave him a gun
And drilled robotic obedience.
No more sympathy
No more empathy.
They taught
The enemy are nought
But evil apparitions;
To be fought.
To kill
Or be killed.
And so,
The boy became the man.
Still tanned,
Still lean;
But now hardened
And mean.
When they were done
And their war lost, or won,
They dropped him back
To find his own way
To get back on track.
Now, he is searching
For the parts of his being
They buried;
When they took the boy
With the beaming
Smile of joy.
READ MORE POEMS BY SHARON HEANEY STANSFIELD