Poem -

Stone cold soldier...

Stone cold soldier...

With air in my lungs, I want to keep it that way, I fought for my country and lived to tell the tale
With a ceiling crumbling and fingers fumbling, all of us were shaking, searching for weapons
With a lover at home she is under my skin, I don't want her to get the knock at the door, to feel that pain
I pretended I was a fighter but inside I was dying,I was just waiting for whistling gunfire to settle

I don't want to become a stone cold soldier
One day I'm going to become a loving father
I'm not going to,
Living under lighted sky
With every breath, I live for my wife and future mother

Freedom was what I was fighting for, but I was never free from myself
Caged in with a protective hat, wishing for that one person to come and help
I'm not built for this but it doesn't make me want my country any less
I just had an image of fat cats using us soldiers as pieces for chess

The marble decorated with a rose
Blowing as their patriotic ghosts
I'm not becoming one of those
I'm not a soldier that's stone cold

By the time you get this, I'll be on my way home to you and your radiant bump
I took my chances and still lived, with me embracing you, I'm eternally grateful
You have made this boy become a man, with dreams of living a happy life
You are going to be the best mam ever
Because you are already my beautiful wife.

This is your husbands best friend over here, Sgt Smith, but you already know this as you came to the door, he used to talk about you every day he had the chance. This letter, he wanted you to have, as this was his lasting thoughts of you and what he wanted for the future. We got ambushed coming back from a local town, there were shots fired, one threw a grenade into the truck, there was smoke everywhere, we couldn't see a thing, it all happened so quick. I'm sorry for going into detail, all I know that the love you and your husband had was the kind of love I'll be searching my whole life for, I hope one day I find it.
I'm so very sorry for your loss x

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Comments

author
Nine Eleven

It's a hard reality Wayne, especially the fat cats part, great poem.

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