Footsteps

Few ran away from the death sentence.

Rows and rows were filled with lost futures.

Even the most brave shattered.

Endless torment of fear, fear of what was behind the desolate jungle of hatred.

D-day, Vietnam, may they go on and on.

Orders were given and they were obeyed.

May we remember the footsteps that overcame.

This poem is about: 
My country

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