America. Land of the greatest, but dipped in hatred.
We live by war.
Boots on the ground become heartbeats for generations.
Pounding on doors and waiting for loved ones who may never come home.
“Thank you for your service.”
Now slide on by
To break homes, shrivel up living by the darkness in your mind,
Or battered and bruised in alleyways to die.
See a son forced to walk away
to fight for his country
Such an honor
Wait to see if he comes home
to see all the horror that
Freedom and liberty at the roots in his life mean seeing
Bodies and bullets every fourth of July.
Our soldiers are sent away as an offer to a battlefield
Where the they wait for the flag on their coffin.
We weep,
For a father left charred
A mother left broken
A child left barred
Where a house no longer feels like home
Because the empty chair at the table reminds of the fact
They choke on hours of smoke and ash
For a home that never wanted them back.
About the Creator
Ghost G.
Poet with an obsessive love for studying mathematics and the processing power of the developing human mind.
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