One soldier standing tall and rigid
alongside dozens of others in line, erect,
still and visible, proud and defined,
except his individuality.
One man, his leader, larger than life
barking orders, guiding, inspiring,
believing he is a mighty person,
except his individuality.
A mother blindly beams
to see her child grown and polished,
pristine and sharp,
except his individuality.
External noble courage,
marching to war so dignified,
only not to come home,
except his individuality.
Souls grateful for his sacrifice,
saddened, shaking their heads,
lives torn apart, dreams shattered,
except his individuality.
The mother of an abandoned son
for a war that nobody won.
Exchanging a home for a box,
crated side-by side and a stone
bearing the full name,
finally recognizing his individuality.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem