At Least Four Marines Too Many
What have we done?
What have we said?
What’s left to do?
When dead means DEAD.
Where do they go?
Where can they be?
Living a life in peace where free means free.
Humanity has failed the Afghans and yet
The power of the west sits on the hands of intent.
Demons hover over their shoulders
Demons with the sharpest of knives.
If we don’t let our soldiers do what they can do, we may never, ever lose this regret no matter how we sell each other the lies.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
