The Infantry Ate My Dreams

They fed me sand and silence,

Made chow of my softest parts —

Turned lullabies to cadence calls

And stitched war into my heart.

Boots marched over sleep I once cradled,

Steel bit into hopes I once knew.

I traded my pens for loaded mags,

My sunrise shades for Army blue.

They shaved my head and gave me numbers,

Tore down the boy to build the ghost.

Now I salute the ache in my spine,

And toast to pain like it's a toast.

They said "You're stronger now, you're forged,"

But no one asked what it would cost

To dream in bursts of gunfire,

To count your nights in comrades lost.

I dreamed of stages, books, and songs,

Of love that bloomed, not bled.

But the Infantry ate those gentle things —

Left war drums in my head.

Now I sleep with boots still laced,

My dreams patrol the wire.

Every smile I wear feels camouflaged,

Every laugh, under fire.

So don't ask me where my dreams have gone,

Or why I stare through rain.

They're somewhere in a foxhole's mouth,

Half-swallowed, still in pain.

The Infantry made me disciplined,

Resilient, cold, and lean.

But it also made me bury soft —

The boy I was. The dream unseen.