225. They didn’t know

He lay there, under the Sun
Dried blood on his lips,
The heat was oppressive.
His clothes were dusty,
Dark bloches on them.
I could see the ants moving,
Entering him and exiting him.

How I hate this place
How I hate the people
Who are responsible for all this unbeliavable madness.
How I hate myself for volunteering to be here.
I watched the ants crawling over the body,
I wanted to hate them too,
But the hate had to stop somewhere.

-Kyle Schlicher, Vietnam war soldier, 1968