What does it mean to be a patriot,
In today’s day and age?

What does it pay to be a leader,
Of such an obscure time of rage?

When did the war begin?
How long must we fight to win?

Long before the first soul was sleighed;
Long after the last anchor was swayed;
There was a presence of pure destruction,
A loss of innocence in the realm of production.

A woman loses her husband.
A father loses his son.

And what has been gained?
What has been won?

A man returns to his loved ones.
He’s not the person he once was.

A woman cries herself to sleep at night,
Praying for the sunrise,
That she might find some peace.

He’s filling her mind with hopeless lies,
As she’s swallowing his defeat.

He claims to love and tries to hold,
What he’d left to be a happy home,
But the his mind is the captive of a warrior’s fleet.

The jungles of horror.
The haven of terror.
The sights he’ll never un-see.

The deserts of death.
No refuge or rest.
The forgiveness he’ll always seek.

So many seek to join a cause
Much greater than one could ever be.

So many are trained to fight;
To die;
But never to recover deceit.

The prayers of the ones left behind;
Could never fully satisfy
The hunger of a trained assassin’s gut.

I’m not a pacifist, a bigot, or a prude.
I’m not a liberal, a hippie, nor am I trying to be rude;
But I’ve lived the life of a soldier’s daughter.
My mother has played the part of an imprisoned wife.

The war that is fought for freedom
Is never, ever left behind.