My thoughts on being a Marine (a poem?)
I went through 13 weeks of hell.
I started as a nasty thing.
0 kind words for 13 weeks.
Molding and forming.
Torture and accomplishment.
They shaved my head.
They took 20 pounds.
I learned how to move with speed, volume, and intensity.
“Quit” isn’t in my vocabulary anymore.
Honor, courage, and commitment are etched in my soul just like the names on the Vietnam memorial.
I’ll forever go for the throat and never be out of the fight.
I am part of something bigger.
Most will never understand.
I now wear two metal tags around my neck as well as the weight of the USA.
Defender of those who can’t defend themselves.
Fighter by day, lover by night, drunkard by choice, and Marine by God.