Written May 22, 2009, in Yucca
Soldiers are dying all across this land, so we can be in freedom with our fellow man.
They are proud to go to war and serve, but do we give them the praise they deserve?
On a lonely battlefield, loved ones at home he craves, while a tear-filled young widow stands by her soldier's grave.
The lucky ones to make it home are greeted one by one, but several days later, we forget all they've done.
They try to get a job, but are quickly turned down; soon they become homeless on a street in town.
They turn to the bottle, which soon takes control; it soon overtakes their very soul.
We're happy they were able to keep us free, so we sit on the couch with a remote and watch TV.
When we see the soldiers we turn our backs on them, and the wars they fought we quickly condemn.
Then in winter we hear on the news how a homeless soldier died of exposure that fought for me and you.
So the moral of the story, the soldier died for you and me.
If you see a dead soldier's wife or kid, give them a helping hand; you'll be glad you did.