Heroism

We define our hero's as the survivors, while the fallen are only martyr's and a reason to fight.

 

A hundred healed wounds cross my skin

Golden medals lie about what I’ve done

Only these scars tell the truth

Of a falsely glorified soldier of war

With morale shattered and destroyed

Coming home a survivor and little else

 

These eyes of mine have seen so much

The once bright orbs have been corrupted

Deep within the blue now swirls crimson

Reminding me of the blood from all my friends

Who fell and will never rise

 

The lives of the fallen are remembered in stone

Written as an epitaph on their graves

The names carved into the rock

Are of those who won’t be coming home

Signed up to fight for a forgotten cause

Which they couldn’t comprehend

And now they lie beneath my feet

 

Up above sitting by the graveside

I wonder if they had someone to love

Who held them in their arms before they went?

Did anyone cry for them when they died?

How I made it back I’ll never know

 

When I’m alone in this field

I can hear their quiet voices in my mind

The empty maddening songs of those long gone

I may have lived but I am not lucky

For without a bullet in my head

I’m forced to remember all the dead

 

Call my name and cheer for me

Praise me and tell me I did right

Just don’t call me a hero

That title isn’t mine to claim

It belongs to those who died in vain