Before the War

Vietnam awaited and I was a child

I left you behind, your blonde hair slapped

with the tears a man can’t cry,

not in nineteen sixty and four.

I lied so many times I forgot the truth.

The truth that you were pure and I,

I was tainted with a letter painted on my forehead.

A man falls wide of the mark of righteousness.

Righteousness is a fog.

Wrong is wrong and I was wrong.

That was in nineteen sixty and four

When men couldn’t cry unless they died in turn.