I was there and heard the shouts
Of hate from my own people.
They called us despicable names
I will not repeat. I was ashamed
To say I was an American,
More so, a soldier.
I saw my brothers
Walk the walk
Into hate and racial slurs.
As they carried me with heads held high,
I was ashamed of my own people.
I saw my brothers cry, I cried with them,
But I was ashamed that I died.
Those that protested against us
Didn't see the atrocities
Committed by the other side,
Just the horrific acts committed by a few.
They didn't see a friend without arms, legs,
Or with their inside on the outside.
So many of my brothers
Lie in forgotten graves
Gathering dust.
Weeds grow where hope died.
We died, for you, so you could sleep
In the comfort of your bed.
We slept on the ground, ate what we could,
Showered when it rained.
We felt the pain of loneliness,
That sweet caress of a loved one's touch.
We suffered so you wouldn't.
Still, all is forgotten and forgiven,
As we see the sun set and the weeds bloom.