Soldier Of Misfortune
War keeps no secrets of intent
Many return from battles with
much more than physical scars
In the heat of fire fights
the scent of death is ever present
As the wounded are tended to
and last breaths are drawn in
a brothers arms
A piece of them gone forever
impacting insanely and unchecked
until returning hone only to
eat a bullet to end their demise
Victims of circumstances beyond
their control
Sanity that once was sedates itself
popping another one of mothers little helpers
Maybe if the system allows it, another
session of therapy, possibly too little
too late
Where is gratitude for those who served
and still are serving
Does it fall by the wayside in passing
them on the street or at an airport
en route to be deployed
A salute would be enough
A thank you would be a blessing
Though honored to serve, they too
need to know we cared and still do
For country where limbs were lost
and lives were too, we've become
a nation of the oblivious and looking
every way but theirs
Beneath the surface of every grunt
is a woman or man once child that
knew innocence lost in their wage
of war, within themselves
Agents of unrest colored Orange
Haunt to this day
Shell shocked and flashbacks will
join at the hip to them
Their presence being half the person
they use to be, half the person we don't
see
Pray today for them and their families
Whose cries are many and unheard well
after the last shot was fired and they
are no more
For soldier of fortune they were not
But misfortune their claim to fame
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