Blood painted stripes on his shoulder,
His duty that weighs a boulder.
Patriotism flowing through his veins,
Yet his dignity studed with stains.

With bullet holes in his chest,
He carried the flag to the mountain's crest.
Inhaling courage and exhaling fear,
Fighting to prove wrong every smear.

Watching tombstones which were once a life,
On a blunt rock he sharpens his knife.
Pledging to make the enemy repay,
He confides his deeds to statues of clay.

Protector of freedom and warrior of the weak,
The vast warlands of his might they speak.
He stands atop the conqured dome,
He's a soldier who never came home.

Hundreds of haunting memories,
Of the times I've left behind.
Essays and summaries,
About the life that's been unkind.

Places and faces I've seen,
Some good while some were mean.
Everything written on white paper,
Now has vanished into sky like vapour.

Lessons learned from mistakes,
Saving myself from deep lakes.
Black ink flooded the blank pages,
It felt like my heart's inside cages.

With tears I erase the past,
But hide them from the world.
Neither the pages nor the pain exist,
Of "the diary I burned".

Somewhere down a street,
I walk under the cloudy rain.
A dim light showing the way,
Leading me away from pain.

A wrecked bench with dew drops,
Empty as always on the other side.
Every watch & every clock stops,
The devious time is now my guide.

Icy cold palms and drenched hair,
Staring faces filled with despair.
A torn paper and a broken pen,
Trying to use words made by men.

Fingers bleeding black with grief,
Blacker than the clouds above pouring.
Forsaken faith & forgotten belief,
Dreams and hopes in the air soaring.

Accepting the truth that I now abide,
Upon myself I take all the blame.
Waiting for you on the other side,
All I could write was your name.