The perils of war,
are furrowed deep in the memory of many,
escape seems unobtainable,
within the confines of minds young and old.

Those who were lost,
are not only those who perished in the conflicts many,
but those who were left behind to remember.

The perils of war,
are furrowed deep,
deep inside the recollections of those souls,
who came home from battle misplaced.

As the battles still rage on,
within their dreams.

We send our youth into war,
before their legal age to drink.

We bring home those who die,
in draped caskets,
praising their valor.

They are the lucky,
for they rest in peace.

The tattered, frayed souls,
who return home alive,
are the unlucky.

Carrying their medals upon their chests,
left to deal as they may.

Often only drugs and drink,
free their minds of tumultuous thoughts,
allowing them to breathe.

No peace is theirs,
as,
yes,
every battle,
rages still.

Deep within their dreams,
for them,
there is no peace.



Dedicated to the many who have fought in the name of freedom. Giving for us, their lives and souls.

"Lest We Forget"