You can't relate to this one.....be cruel, or kind, please?

Question:Two people stare at a portrait, one says "He's looking at me." The other says "No, he's looking at me."
That's the way it is.
The dead are looking at me. Appearing as reality at
My bed, pulling my covers, a bullet hole in his head.
I scream, trying to wake, but the floor is covered
with blood, to deep to walk.
Black, darkness, no thoughts except of
The end of a sad life.
The end, it's oblivion. Black, all black six
Feet under, or paying the boatman.
Cross the Styx and meet your brothers
Of the battlefield.
Dreams, dreams of falling, falling, and falling
Towards jagged rocks
At the bottom of a dark sea.
They say you hit the ground dreaming you
Will die
In your sleep. I have hit the ground wishing never
To wake.
Sleep, oh sleep, come to me in my exhaustion but
Without the evil dreams
That torment me even in my waking hours, laying
Awake, thinking
Good thoughts hoping they will enter my
Nightmares of blood.
Happiness is just a dream, just a dream

Best Answer - Chosen by Asker: Two people stare at a portrait, one says "He's looking at me." The other says "No, he's looking at me."
That's the way it is.
The dead are looking at me. Appearing as reality at
My bed, pulling my covers, a bullet hole in his head.
I scream, trying to wake, but the floor is covered
with blood, to deep to walk.
Black, darkness, no thoughts except of
The end of a sad life.
The end, it's oblivion. Black, all black six
Feet under, or paying the boatman.
Cross the Styx and meet your brothers
Of the battlefield.
Dreams, dreams of falling, falling, and falling
Towards jagged rocks
At the bottom of a dark sea.
They say you hit the ground dreaming you
Will die
In your sleep. I have hit the ground wishing never
To wake.
Sleep, oh sleep, come to me in my exhaustion but
Without the evil dreams
That torment me even in my waking hours, laying
Awake, thinking
Good thoughts hoping they will enter my
Nightmares of blood.
Happiness is just a dream, just a dream

That is very moving and i could relate to that.
Have family that have gone to war.

You are right, I can't relate. As a child, I summoned demons to fight me in the dark at bedtime (I was afraid of the dark). They came at me much in the same way, screaming and clawing, devouring what they could, dripping ichor and blood mixed with foul breath. In the end, I destroyed them. I slept well as a child, and still do.

It makes more sense when you state this about war. You need to let your readers know this somehow right in the beginning. When I first read the poem, I kept thinking the imagery was powerful and I liked it overall but I felt kind of lost reading it. When I read at the very end that it was about war, it was so much more powerful and moving, and it made perfect sense.