For Those That Have Lost

Weary,
Weary,
Wary.
They are tired.
Of having their hopes raised.
And then -
Dashed.
They rinse themselves of shame.
And repeat.
Doomed to failure,
Even from the beginning.
Uneven at the end.


The truth.
Lies buried.
Some emerge wounded.
Others lie.
Shaken and unshaken.
They are dead.
My brothers are dead.


For love leaves many casualties.
In its wake,
There is a trail of destruction.
Yet,
We soldier on,
We soldier on.

War-torn

Stumbling along with rifle in hand.
Shoot!
There's confusion everywhere..
Shoot! Shoot!
The boy's dead - buried in sand.
Killed softly by my blank stare.

There is no returning from here.
I've chosen this road to take.
I'm marching on, fear or no fear.
Wished I could turn - Oh for Christ sake!

Never Ending Route March

On this route we follow,
we cannot stop.
Though our dreams and minds are hollow,
we cannot stop.

For stopping is to give up
And that means death.
Death to the ideals of a nation,
Birth of a wanton generation.

So we're the saints that keep marching on.
A march we have to believe in.
To give hope to those who had started
And to encourage those who are still here on
This never ending route march
So that all will continue...