A retired soldier is sitting on a bench
Uncountable injuries followed by deep scars spread over and through his body
A soldier’s body is a weapon, a tool for the state to own
A soldiers mind is controlled by the body’s purpose,
Dominated by its use, and finally overpowered…
Until it vanishes out of its useless nature

That retired soldier, who is sitting on that bench,
Shines with pride-presenting his bruised body to the people
As a servant of the state, feeling superior to everyone else…
The retired soldier looks content, having fulfilled all he could ever wish for in his life

I am a soldier, fighting the battle of everyday life…
So don’t judge me, soldier of war…Although I may use different weapons,
that doesn’t mean that there are no people dying in my war
and that my body is not as mush bruised as yours…
I am too a soldier…a soldier fighting the social war

But at the end I am too just a soldier, a soldier serving in vain…
Therefore having no right to judge
So I sat down, next to the retired soldier,
We now both represented the state and its nation with our over-exhausted bodies
Two retired soldiers sitting on a bench.