I'm so proud of you,
my little soldier
with scars that each hold a story.
Tears that have meaning beyond comprehension
memories that've stained your
once clear mind.

You are strong.
You are brave.
You've fought well.
But now it's done.
It's time to let go.
The war is over.
It's been fought.
And it's been lost.

Lower your weapon.
Remove your uniform.
Let the tears dry,
let the scars heal.
And the memories?
The ones that make you break 
whenever you're rebuilt?
Let those memories 
Never be forgotten.
Though you've lost
and it wasn't swell.
They show that
you've done so well.