I wrote this poem when I was in senior High school and my government teacher (May his soul rest in peace) came in to teach about the effect of war on war veterans particularly African soldiers who went off to Burma to fight enemies who were really not their enemies because the war had nothing to do with Africa. He spoke of how these brave men came back destroyed body and soul. Some of them became mad; others delusional and others committed suicide. He said there was no form of help for them when they came back home so most of them did not know how to reintegrate into the families and communities they left behind.

So as a 16 year old at the time, I wrote a poem about that topic my teacher taught for that day. Looking at the poem now, it is still very relevant since there is more violence and wars in the world than there has ever been. I thought I might change the poem so it sounds much more mature than it did at the time but I have just decided to let my innocence and understanding of the topic at the time stand as it was.

This is the poem word for word as I wrote it back then. (Pardon the ignorance and expressions of a 16 year old girl)



How will I ever

Be able to tell

My story

We went off to

A strange land

And met strange

Enemies who did us

No harm

Guns. Shots. Casualties  

We return to empty houses

And our hearts heavy with

Blood strains and cries of

Innocent people



My mouth too heavy to open

my tongue

Too heavy to form words

I am redrawn

I keep all the horror to myself

My people understand me

I am the first victim


I came back to nothing

All was not the same

I still went along

But I was too different

To become part of my people

I had to stay away

In frustration I ended it all

My people understand me

I am the second victim


Too much was drummed

Into my head

Meaningless yet powerful

Words of command

I drank too many words

And commands which made

No sense to me

I am back home in madness

I shout senseless commands

Which I learnt in this strange land

Of battle and fear

I roam the land of my people

In tired less strides

My people understand me

I am the third victim


5 thoughts on “VICTIMS

  1. Pingback: Speechless | EssayBoard

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