They who say we meddle,
In the lives in which we fought for,
For the silent rebellions, we shared,
The people we cared to look out for,
The children we protected-not-scared,
They tell us now that,
The war will cost you everything,
Not make you a millionaire for the trouble you had to go to,
But to sit on the underside of the bridges and streets.
No money from the war goes to you.
No compensation for the lives you saved,
No compensation for the merciless villains you came across that almost killed you,
No compensation for the lives you witnessed was lost...
Just a knock on your door that says goodbye.
To Vietnam,
To family,
To having the one chance at survival of war,
When others did not.
A day to grieve.
That is a fallen man's dream...
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