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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Philosophy · #1990513
A Poem about patriotism and "heroes of war"
The Patriot


I lay on this battle-worn ground, the sun up high. 

Above me, bullets, bombs, and planes do fly.

In these final moments, I reminisce

My life, now spent, my role in this.

We raided camps, we took their heads

in the dead of night, from within their beds.

We took their cities, their towns, their homes

fought tooth and nail for dust and bones.


"They're savages, bastards! They killed our men!

Raped our women time and time again!"

For this, we fought, for this, we took.

But what I saw, surely, my eyes mistook.

I saw a broken people, a broken home;

I saw no weapons; just fear they'd shown. 

What then was my role? Why then did I fight?

Ah...yes; it was for my government's control. I fought for what they told me was right.


It was we who were the terrorists, we who were the foe...

And we who had the weapons when it came blow...to...blow...

"He died a true patriot; a hero of war."

"He died a monster, a human no more"



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