Tribute To The Troops

By Da Poet   

Masked by disguise,
I conspicuously arise, into the night from cover.
Unbeknown by day, stealth as I lay, I inch closer, and closer undiscovered.

The sweltering heat, wet palms, sweaty feet give cause for doubt so I wonder?
What is the real purpose of this clandestine mission, when I could be back home fishing?

However, the obligation is evident, my duty clear, to take no prisoners while I am here.
Boom, boom goes the artillery, bang, bang, goes the guns, and when the smoke clears we're winning,
but tell me whose really won?

We lost our commander, my best friend is dead, and as I look around, there's blood running red.
The wounded, the broken, tattered and torn, wishing that they had never been born.

A cry goes out, we're headed back home, but combat stress has altered my dome.
TBI, Suicide, PTSD, hey look there's Bobby, but that ain't me.

Another heroes welcome, wow, but how much does that pay?
I ain't got no job, and I'm homeless, it's very sad to say.
A big parade is planned, and they place medals on my chest,
but when it's all said, and done where the hell is the rest?

War, what is it good for? Absolutely nothing.


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