I will always remember my forefathers, men who fought through times of war.
Remember their every sacrifice, at home and upon foreign shores.
I remember them for their bravery, as I remember them with pride.
I remember the fields of Poppy's, that grow in a place brave men died.
Now I look upon our leaders, as with dignity wreaths are laid.
Then think of the men still fighting, who are by these leaders betrayed.
I also think of the wounded, the broken, the crippled, the damned, and it pains me to think of the future, for Poppy'a grow well in the sand.
I fail to see justification, our best maimed and led to their deaths.
To be remembered by future leaders, who behind wreaths couldn't care less.
If we 'Truly' remember, why do we still fight foreign wars?
Our Heroes are best here living, than remembered dead upon foreign shores.
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