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The Fallen





Young men dead in a foreign land
With a bullet in his head
With a gun in his hand
Fighting for freedoms
For you and I
Fight as he might
With our freedom
He died

Young mothers head in her shaking hands
Eye shut tightly trying to understand
First born dead in a body bag
Half mast flying
Her American flag
She looks up helpless at the sky above
Why’d you take my son, my GOD,
My love

Young man dying with blood on his hands
Tears he’s crying water distant sand
He’d be lying
To say he understands
His friend trying
Holds out his hand
I don’t want to die
Please help me stand

I don’t want to die
Please help me stand
I want to see my mamma
Please take my hand
The blood your bleeding
It’s not your own
It’s mine, I leave it with you
I want to go home

Distant eyes staring
From a corner he knows
He’s never alone
His friends are lost souls
Eyes dart quickly
As they glance away
Strangers pass by
Lost for words they say

I remember the day
I remember the time
Before he went away
He seemed just fine
It makes no sense
No reason no rhyme
He had so much to give
I guess it’s taking time

The hands on the clock
Spin round and round
Another celebration
In another town
The beat goes on
As we get down
Kneeling, thankful, grateful
For the freedom we found

The flowers she bought
So beautiful and bright
She lays them on the grave
As her eyes close tight
Taken far away
To a foreign land
On a beach her son
Lying in the sand

Smiling and laughing
The look in his eyes
Innocent and young
Few tears they had cried
He runs to hold her
Inside she died
Hand on his grave
She says
Good Bye

About this poem

The cost of war

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Written on November 06, 2021

Submitted by Keithdalankford on November 11, 2021

1:40 min read
3 Views

Keith Lankford

Former Contractor, advocate for individuals targeted in current counterintelligence community policing operations more…

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    "The Fallen" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2022. Web. 28 Nov. 2022. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/113742/the-fallen>.

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