A Restored Soldier?

He pauses at the counter, hair still
slashed in a military fashion, slightly
bronzed arms poking through a sleeveless
shirt, gripping delicately in his hand a
young blond girl approximately 3 years in
age, her ringlets spinning down her pink
and indigo dress, proudly exhibiting her
to a myriad of acquaintances that approach
him for a momentary visit. His eyes squint
vaguely in the perpetual strenuous pain,
from the continuous pressure positioned on
his surrogate leg....a metallic souvenir of
titanium joins, ball bearings, and shafts,
a memento of the armed confrontation he
left behind. His open visage appears
attuned to home....but what disfigurements
does he possess upon his psyche? What events
did he witness that he will never verbalise?
What forces certain individuals to suffer a
ghastly defacement, but evolve and situate
everything behind him, while others, who
display no tangible mutilations, submit to
the enticing siren's cry of self administered
remedies and alcohol, envisaging the combat
in the shadows of his damaged mentality....
submerging their trepidations and secreting
tears in one more shot? I observe as he and
his petite girl ungainly saunter out of the
supermarket, his upper body inclining left
when his Nike shod counterfeit leg clouts
the gleaming tile floor.

nt