"what do you wanna be when you grow up?"
he thinks of his long list...
In silence and confinement
resides his soul's merriment...
When your sad
Hurt or lonely...
The bombs fly
a rain of fire...
I see the hills and empty fields
Encased in dusty hue...
I'm sorry this must be in writing rather than in...
I feared that by facing you with my decision...
Michael Came Home
By Mark Spencer...
Every Morning We Wake In Our Warm Beds
While He Wakes Up In The Dust And Heat...
His Blood Stained The Ground
Her Tears Hit His Tags...
We are soldiers
And we march on...
Why they hate you, it's foreign to me,
I don't hate you, even in the worst calamities...
Mama tonight we die
Please no one cry...