Nov 2010
He never understands the world though societies eyes,
the pain inside more than he can bear anymore,
just one more broken soldier,
never even seen combat yet,
yet wanting to go over to distant lands so much,
to escape the loneliness he feels in his own home, his own country,
searching for the meaning of life where madness reigns true,
what does God want of me, how can I best serve him,
how can he best serve his country,
how can he escape the darkness,
just one more broken soldier,
looking to war to fix him,
looking for a best friend in troubled times,
looking for someone to fix his heart,
tired of being scared,
not of death,
not of being hurt in war,
but scared of being inadequate, unwanted,
tired of searching for those hero stories, those fairy tales of love and redemption,
running forward right into the very walls that are thrown at him,
never getting close enough to show his true colors,
drowning in a sea of troubles,
growing and angry with despair,
but a soldier he stands never retreating,
never willing to quit,
never leaving anyone who has fallen on the path to fend for themselves,
and at times being used by the very people he wants to help,
the tears on his cheek the only reminders of his work,
completed but unappreciated,
the blood he has spilled only his own,
the bruises everlasting, turning into invisible scars that only he sees and feels as he tries to go on,
the cold look in his eyes the result of years of pain,
his stance only able to hold for the Honor and truth inside him,
never will he fall below the standards set by God and men,
not boys, not users of women, but men who appreciate their lovers, wives and sweethearts,
their damsels in distress in the stone tower,
but hesitant to get to close,
the rocks and stones maybe thrown again,
and even when they do we stand true taking the blows,
vainly hoping the steady flow will cease and they will realize we are wearing not shinny armor,
not riding a white horse,
but dressed casually, and riding a black horse,
we are not symbolic, because he is normal and true,
he will not display what you want,
but rather what you need,
he is still one broken soldier, searching for the truth,
maybe Iraq will show it to him....to me
the pain inside more than he can bear anymore,
just one more broken soldier,
never even seen combat yet,
yet wanting to go over to distant lands so much,
to escape the loneliness he feels in his own home, his own country,
searching for the meaning of life where madness reigns true,
what does God want of me, how can I best serve him,
how can he best serve his country,
how can he escape the darkness,
just one more broken soldier,
looking to war to fix him,
looking for a best friend in troubled times,
looking for someone to fix his heart,
tired of being scared,
not of death,
not of being hurt in war,
but scared of being inadequate, unwanted,
tired of searching for those hero stories, those fairy tales of love and redemption,
running forward right into the very walls that are thrown at him,
never getting close enough to show his true colors,
drowning in a sea of troubles,
growing and angry with despair,
but a soldier he stands never retreating,
never willing to quit,
never leaving anyone who has fallen on the path to fend for themselves,
and at times being used by the very people he wants to help,
the tears on his cheek the only reminders of his work,
completed but unappreciated,
the blood he has spilled only his own,
the bruises everlasting, turning into invisible scars that only he sees and feels as he tries to go on,
the cold look in his eyes the result of years of pain,
his stance only able to hold for the Honor and truth inside him,
never will he fall below the standards set by God and men,
not boys, not users of women, but men who appreciate their lovers, wives and sweethearts,
their damsels in distress in the stone tower,
but hesitant to get to close,
the rocks and stones maybe thrown again,
and even when they do we stand true taking the blows,
vainly hoping the steady flow will cease and they will realize we are wearing not shinny armor,
not riding a white horse,
but dressed casually, and riding a black horse,
we are not symbolic, because he is normal and true,
he will not display what you want,
but rather what you need,
he is still one broken soldier, searching for the truth,
maybe Iraq will show it to him....to me
