One shot fired,
A second,
A third,
The sky is now tired,
As its lighting is blurred,
No sounds of the past, ever break through the cries,
The cry of a Soldier,
As he dies.
So many have joined,
With pride as they're only boys,
Knowing they'll be molded, into men with only poise.
Two sides to a fight,
We only know one,
As our men take flight,
To be number one.
They'll fight their own brothers,
To be seen as a hero,
Over seas at home,
From their family and fellows,
Not knowing if they'll return, from all the effects of the battle.
The man right beside you,
Could very well be next,
To fall to his knees,
A bullet to his chest,
Not knowing his past,
As it could have been favored,
His present is not worth it,
And his future's now deleted.
His family will hear,
And they will grieve,
Only knowing what they've been told,
And what they believe,
That he was a hero,
Up until his leave.
One shot fired,
A second,
A third,
So many people dying,
Their stories never heard.
