The Forgotten

He arose from his slumber, horrified,

For through his mind ran the constant agony of battle;

His weeping, praying, bleeding

Had all been lost in the roar of falling fire.

Between the battles were endless stretches of time,

Measured not in clocks but in heartbeats.

Where silence seemed much louder than sound,

And survival became his one true hope.

For he was part of The Forgotten,

The men who stood upon the front lines

And fought for their nations-

True brothers separated by borders.

They wrote to their families in fragile letters,

To altered cities and the faces they longed for.

They clung to memories untouched by war,

While the world they left behind moved forwards.

After six years and a single sunrise,

They received the icy weight of medals,

But returned home as strangers,

Their bloodshed and sacrifice long forgotten.

Now they live only in fading ink,

In yellowed pages and half-spoken words,

Celebrated once, then quietly, set aside,

Forgotten by the very world they fought to protect.