I know I should be proud
Of the medals on my chest,
"You wear these medals
To symbolise the rest."
But that's just it;
What about the rest?
They're MIA,
We're sick at best.
And I murdered, I did.
A person with a love,
A person with a family,
A person now above.
It's in the morning,
It was in the fight.
It's in the terrors
That I dream every night.
The medals that I own,
Adorned on the wall,
Symbolise my brothers,
The ones I saw fall.
I've been sick for weeks,
Sick with weak heart,
Sick with insomnia
All from my weak part
So there, young child
So now you know why.
Whenever I recount,
This is why I cry.
