or sign in with e-mail
by Fredy RoMa0u Sanchez Apr 23, 2023 category : Life, society / patriotism
He carried within the full weight of many a lonely night.... his shadow danced to the rhythm of a dim candlelight The room was filled with the deafening screams of his guilt Happiness and joy came and did nothing but wilt Each morning found him staring at the ceiling devoid of any strength While his flask of BushMills sat, without fail, at arm's l length. The half empty bottles that littered the floor. rendered a picture of the pain he's endured... each passing night became a salute to his pain a solemn reminder it had all been in vain Terrified of sleep for what he might dream Constantly Haunted by all he had seen... by the things he had done... For a flag, for country, for home... They handed him a rifle at the age of twenty-one... They Told him with a smile: 'take as many as you can also don't worry, we're the good guys, that's clear as the bullets rained on the children cowering in fear. the irony was lost on those in charge of the war those who sit and discuss about an acceptable loss behind a closed door... His dreams had lately been haunted by friends who never came back friends whose families in return got a folded flag, a thank you and a bronze plaque another empty bottle falls to the floor that's 7 this week but who's keeping score? this is the reward he was given for joining the corps
