The Misdirected Ungratefully Armed Poem by Robert William Schmitz

There is a sad truth which follows us
My heart grieves and begs for it
A small chance that you can open up
See into through these goggles
Feel these broken tattered boots
Why do you bomb us with these words?
I march your fields unarmed
I stand in for your convenience
My opinions remain un-cocked
Mouth balled and knuckles white at my side
I fight for benefits? For a degree?
I got my gun before this degree
These discounted jeans are torn and faded
While these memories burn deep
Colors bleeding deeper every night
But you see we aren’t so different
We fight for what we believe in
Your high caliber words
And my three round burst
5.56 flying toward the direction of your freedom.