We gave our youth for a country that didn’t care. Bled among friends and lost our innocence in sand stained with blood of generations before us.
In the end, they’re dead, and yet here I remain. Burdened with life when they were robbed of it. The irony that they planned their lives, and I joined to die.
If there’s a god, their humor is dark and twisted.
Our fathers, their fathers, and their fathers before them fought wars. We fought for freedom where it wasn’t asked and wasn’t wanted.