Faye Sizemore


I write of war and its cost
And tell of battles won and lost
I write of blood, death, and gore
There are stories of prisoners of war
Tales of the missing in action and more
Stories of torture that do chill to the bone
Ones of children having to be raised all alone
I write of the veterans sweaty midnight screams
Of the ones who are thrust back in their dreams
There is a battle cry that runs though my veins
And it is because of this that I take my aim
It’s not because I fought, I was not there
It is because the battle cry is “I care”
I do not write for honor or monetary gain
I write to lessen just one other of their pain

Author’s Note: Alone sometimes at midnight… seemingly alone… centuries of soldiers haunt me…… assuredly they are there