"For I am nobodies soldier." By Ben Goode 2019 (c)

I am writing this for the forgotten soldiers. 
Who are now still fighting for their lives on the streets.
Alone. 

Sitting on the city sidewalks.
They walk on past, and go their way.
I speak, and the words go unheard.
Am I just a ghost in limbo?
Is this the hell I deserved?
And who judged me?
What was my crime for wearing a uniform?
Greeted by the haters, burning flags.
And spat at like an animal. 

"Attention!"
And my comrades once saluted. 
Cause I was once important. 
Wasn't I? I had served a purpose? But what is it now?
Now people make me feel invisible.
Maybe in their mindset of superiority,
they think perhaps they are better?
I have no home but this one. What did I defend?
The coldness is all that embraces me.
And I don't want to be here.
Perhaps all I am is garbage.

My medals were sold off for food.
My memories are all of the death of my friends.
But who cares? Who cares when nobody is left?
I'm so angry, and yet so horribly sad.
I won't beg or be a busker.
I have already played my part.
So walk on past. And forget me. 
For I am nobodies soldier.