He still fights on….

The day forlorn, he waits to mourn

The fight was strong.

He stood along the men beside him,

their faces grim….

And they fought with valor, their courage for show,

The enemy was defeated, blow by blow

This day is done, this war is won.

The battle rages on,

His fight still strong,

This day forlorn.

 

He sits atop with axe and heart,

Both dripping with red, Both not too far apart

He needs some rest, some respite,

He knows he still needs to fight…despite.

He sticks his axe, with all his might,

It sounds heavy, it feels light.

His eyes scan, the distant land,

His mouth still bitter, the taste of victory…..now bland

Bodies and blood, all lying in the mud.

A wasteland!

 

A million miles, A million days,

His wife and kids they sleep unaware,

His death for them would no more than a nightmare,

For he left them all, despite her says.

Despite all protest, He packed his bags,

He stood his front, his heavy heart sags.

His nation called, it asks for blood,

It’s seeped in mud…..

For that is the price of freedom,

It is what is decreed for him.

 

And now he stands desolate and alone,

He fought the war, for a throne,

And he won……??

And he thinks of those whose wives and kids,

Sleep in their beds (or maybe lie awake),

They too are unaware,

of the deaths he caused,

Would cause them nightmares.

Waiting for their man to return,

To tell them stories about their side of the war,

But the stories are now…..taciturn!

 

He shrugs this off, the guilt the remorse,

He did nothing out of force.

He served his nation, He destroyed lives,

He doesn’t have the time to imagine the tears of their wives

or kids who would be without a father in their lives.

The battle rages on,

His fight still strong,

This day forlorn!

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