By Robynn Murray
I am your walking wounded broken toy soldier, and your flag is burning and all your yellow ribbons have fallen down. I cut open these festers to force your eyes to see the truth so damn it, LOOK! Look at what has become of me, of us.
I will gladly reopen these wounds if there is change that will come of it. So that no one else receives these scars.
We walking wounded broken toy soldiers salute your burning flags, untie your yellow ribbons and bind up our open wounds that are proudly on display for you.
But most bow your heads low, and shut tightly your eyes ignoring our evisceration.