"disabled veteran"

bomb rhymes with mom but

my mom is a bomb--

ticking away from the things that she saw.

you would never think and I had never thought

that my mom would get caught

in government claws

and get sent to fight

in a war without cause--

last time i saw her, dressed in her kevlar

not yet broken, not yet tainted--

war makes me sick and she went in there painted

like a soldier, but i only ever knew her 

as Mom, not a bomb diffuser--

lieutenant, platoon leader--

she looked after her soldiers,

like she was their keeper--

but my mom is a painter

an artist, a maker--

she holds off the pain

but how the fuck could they take her

and bring her back broken like that?

do they even take a glance back 

to see that we struggle each day

with the fact that

war took Mom away and she never

came back?

This poem is about: 
My family


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