War!

One of my friends,
fought in the war,
I just wanted him to come home,
safe and sound,
walking through the door.

The was waged on,
and all I could do was wait,
his calls became fewer,
and I was scared of his fate.

In his letters,
he would tell me about the fight,
all the guns, bullets, blood, fire,
and the dead that haunted the night.

He told me about the people he killed,
all the lives he took,
I could see the dry-ed tears on the paper,
and at last he told me he lost his foot.

From that point on,
I never received another letter,
I got so worried something happened,
and things would never get better.

It was 6 months before I was contacted,
they said Peter had died,
I just sat there shocked,
not even able to cry.

The war killed him,
because thats what war does,
it kills the people we love,
he knew that and still fought,
thats just the kind of man he was.

To me he was the bravest man I've ever known,
he was one of my best friends,
and he gave his life up for this country,
he had a gloryis end.