This one is for my Grandpas, and all those who serve and have served our country
The glory is fleeting
the wounds are fresh
when wings come rushing
to help us greet death
We fought their fights
we lived their dreams
hidden were nightmares
pretended by kings
The pain is lasting
transformed by our grief
we go through life running
seeking relief
sometimes we find it
a salve for our scars
sometimes we keep sewing
our tattered hearts
Whether we die
clinging to life
or meet death sweetly
embracing the light
there is no denying
how our paths intersected
and were broken by strife
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