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Poem
Be who you want to be, travel to places you want to see,
do what you want to do, it’s our god given right we can agree,
anything life has to offer we can pursue.
Free to do whatever our hearts desire; But freedom is required.

Freedom is such a deceiving word
some take for granted some forget the price, 
but most don’t understand the cost for this right,
it’s absurd what our soldiers have paid and sacrificed,
and those that didn't pay the ultimate price, 
still must endure and bear the wounds
and scars of war, to be precise.
No! Freedom isn’t free, it never was, is, or ever will be.
To those wise and brave enough to see,
to stand and fight to do what’s right so we could be free,
we owe, and they will always be, our Heroes!

Sleepless nights since he went away, I try to forget every day. 
The day he cried was seen worldwide,
attack on the towers where his brothers died.
The nation mourned as we saw the rubble,
freedom seemed temporarily had taken a tumble.
I feared what he might do, stand up for justice and truth,
 the act was so evil, violent, and crude, he felt he had to do right
 by his family and defend America too.
He joined our military’s might, for justice and freedom, they fight!

Every night, I lay with thoughts of him on how he is
and where he could be, wishing he was here next to me, 
to have and to hold and show him I care, what a nightmare!
My head is ringing, the room is spinning,
I hit the floor, two men standing at my door.
No please this is crazy, don’t let this be about my baby.
The cost of freedom has made me a widow,
but still to me, he will always be, my Hero!

My sons have returned, I’m so proud but concerned,
I look into their eyes and I’m disturbed!
They’re not the same, they have changed, 
what happened, who's to say. In my room While in bed I cry, 
because the light in my son’s eyes has died.
No one seems to care,
I buried one he took his life too much for him to bear,
my other son is in despair, lost and homeless somewhere.

The price of freedom can never be calculated,
and those who pay can never be emulated.
When young they played as defenders of the helpless,
even as boys they were selfless, with big dreams and big egos,
but still to me, they will always be, my little Superheroes!

Cherish the freedoms we have, cherish the freedoms we share,
cherish the men and women that serve to keep the freedoms we live,
show the Heroes of Freedom we truly care.
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