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So did my purpose
A warrior in from the cold
Keen knife honed
For only one reason
No one imagined
There would be a retreat
Leave us with a mission
That no longer had meaning
We won our war
However, no one remarked
Nobody recognized the sacrifice
Time, emotion, terrified nights
No, they complained about the cost
Dollars spent on ghostly gain
The scars on my mind are just as real
As lesions from plastic surgery
Ripped open one September day
Only five years gone
Our folly is not in remembrance
Of things past
But in our forgetfulness
Of things still present.
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|Reviewed by Marguerite Little Flower
|All killing is wrong - although they justify WAR That is unfortunate|
|Reviewed by Tinka Boukes
|A sad reality these days my friend!!
|Reviewed by Susan de Vegter
|Greed fodders war. Children leave as warriors faithfully honoring belief and return scarred and older than their ability to deal can cope. Scars....no one knows the real damage but them. This is a sad truth.
Thanks you .