My shadows of hope

They catch me with the gasoline again. Playing with matches once again. They see me trying to burn the world. They think they understand my pain. They think they care, because they ask. They think they care, for it's their task. But I'd rather if they didn't. I'd rather, if they left me in the dark. I'd rather burn my world down, than look into their eye, and see the light. The light from another world, where I was exactly as they wanted me to be. I'd rather take a match to my dreams than watch them shout and scream at how my thoughts are so different from theirs. And now, I don't even care. They think they know me, they think they know what's best for me. But my heart is my own secret to keep. I'll hide it in me, somewhere deep. They catch me with the gasoline again they take away my matches from me. But it's too late. The spark has been struck. It's too late for my dreams to escape.

What could I give those, who gave their everything. What meager award do I lay at their hallowed feet. What words could honor their sleepless nights. What actions could match their peerless sacrifice. How many tears must I shed to equal their sacred blood. Given freely, without question in exchange for my peaceful rest. And now the martyr, who yesterday stood. Sleeps the sleep of the well deserved. In casket of wood. And I stand, dumbfounded, that someone like him once walked this earth, this peerless, selfless soldier. And so, in quiet, I stand, with empty hand. With insufficient words to lay upon cold ground. His flag I do salute as she flies proudly above his final resting place. Her chest, bursting with pride, the mother welcomes her son home.