Perhaps

Perhaps the sailor was a saint, the woman was a tart. Perhaps the images we paint are tainted by our heart. Perhaps the young man held a gun or did he hold a toy? Perhaps he died his mother's son, her only pride and joy. Perhaps the children playing there were casualties of war. Perhaps it's true we're well aware of what the mines are for. Perhaps the soldiers on the wall were only children too. Perhaps you've never cried at all because it wasn't you. Perhaps there was an Angel sent our mortal souls to save and He, like other soldiers, went... a young man to his grave.