A poem for Christopher

Christopher walks the streets at night alone and cold, he’s lost the fight,
he’s fading.
He’s walked the streets so very long, lost in thought he carries on,
He waiting.
Down the ways and walks of life, his painted thoughts reflect the lights that blinds him.
He sees the world through crusted eyes alone and lost sometimes he cries, memories lead him on and on.
Like fading verses in his song.
He’s dying.

Now he turns the corner too the shop he’s always going to, 
it helps him.
Liquid silence fills his mouth, keeps him quit and stops the shout,
That shames him.
But you don’t see the inner man, just a shambling, shouting grubby man,
You don’t know the inner lies, the pain, the pride, the sacrifice.
The medals lost within his clothes, he gave his blood, his fear and soul,
They maimed him.

For I have walked so many miles on streets, in countries far and wide to save you.
And I have killed and I have maimed for king and country and that old refrain,
To serve you!!
But you don’t see the man in me, just an empty shell, a falling tree.
That’s shames you.

Now I lie upon the floor, a crowded room so warm and sure, blankets food, an open door, it’s ending.
As I lay me down to, sleep I pray some god my soul will keep.
It’s over........