THE LOST SOLDIER

I see these people on the train,
and their eyes are raw,
empty,
devoid of meaning,
like a hollow cauldron
waiting for the contents
that will never come.
Plodding on like a soldier's boots
through caked and wet mud
though the soldier inside them
has long been gone.
Their empty eyes search the horizon
for the enemy or the goal
that has been long forgotten,
and they don't know what
they're searching for anymore.