The smell of warm baked cookies
The voices from the television booming against the wall
Hot Cocoa cradled in my hands
Home

His breaths are getting shorter
I’m getting really scared
He tells me he’s feeling colder
I tell him this isn’t fair

I come close and hold him tight
This isn’t the end there’s more to life
I’d like to see my new born baby and tuck him in at night
Tears well, my throat constricts and it feels like a thousand knives

His cries for help sting me
I muffle them with my own
He squeezes my hand one last time and then gives in with a plea
I lay his hand on the ground
I feel death ring in my ears with great sound

I’m too young to die
This isn’t meant to be
My funeral is supposed to be later when I’m already 93

Tell my child to be brave
I’ll watch him from above
Tell my wife to write “#1 HERO” on my grave
I’ll send her kisses everyday

I turn toward the sun
My buddy and I reunite
The rays wrap around me and pull me close
I think I’m beginning to lose my sight
This is goodbye to life and war
The war I hate the most

Standing in a pool of broken pieces of my mug
A poem found in the pocket of a deceased veteran
Sinking into a pit of hatred and disgust
This black and white horror film I cannot escape
I’m in war with my country’s indifference
Home will never come.