Thanks for Everything

Thanks for Everything

I smell the powder, I taste the sweat, And hear the cries, and yeah I wept. Old men preach of glory in death, But they could not see the wounds we kept.

They did not hear the cries for Home Or the bitter music of a pyre drone, Yet when we return with shattered bones They congratulate us and leave us prone,

Fathers unite with broken sons And praise the service they had done But if they had known what deeds we owned They would dash our heads against the stones.

So we persist and forge our own Paths ahead into the known, Where demons rise and freely roam, God is dead, we are alone.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/8hdove/comment/dylblkv?st=JGWGHE4B&sh=d1c786be

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/8hlr6e/comment/dylbe3u?st=JGWGJ971&sh=c612b743