The Walking Dead of War
We are the walking dead. In imaginary graves.
Killed long ago and lingering, though none the less brave.
Not a casualty of war, not a number on the list
We left with death breathed in us, sprayed in a fine mist.
We are empty. Decaying and dying inside.
Behind a stoic mask, is a secret so many want us to hide.
We are hollow. It’s a wonder we even walk upright.
Cancerous evil demons are something we constantly fight.
We are altered. Our bodies, our hearts, our minds.
Feeling as if we’re all alone, abandoned, left behind.
We are suffering. Our bodies science cannot renew
Patched and pieced together, helped by only a few.
We are withered, broken down. We truly died back then.
The mind just hasn’t realized so we pay the price again and again.
We are desenigrating. Our bodies slowly rot.
Scars of war do not stop once the battle has been fought.
We are the walking dead. The ones they try to forget.
More than just names on a wall, these Vietnam vets.
We are overlooked, as if already dead
Erased from history, never welcomed home, told to hang our head.
We are destroyed, wounded by reckless men
Fought and died and injured for them in places they’d never been
We are trampled. A scapegoat for leaders who didn’t care
shouldered the blame for them, even though they sent us there.
We are dismissed. Our diseases never given a name
the chapter in history skipped because they are too ashamed.
We are still here. Though our bodies are giving in
And others chose to call our fight a war we didn’t win.
We are your reminder. The ones you sent to die
Still making you question your actions, exposing your all lies.
We call ourselves the walking dead to remind everyone what’s true
Whether dead on the battlefield, or dying from Agent Orange too.
We are the walking dead. Those who defended you.
Carry physical and mental scars each day without a thank you.
Few defend our honor, The deepest cut of them all.
We covered you, protected you, we heeded that call.
We will stand forever keeping watch as time goes by
We are still on duty and tend to our brothers both dead and alive
We are a strange mix of death and an overwhelming need to survive.
Just call us the walking dead until the last of us dies.
When that last man passes bravely on, then we will no longer be,
But till that last man passes, all the Walking Dead will be a part of me.
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