A picture is worth a thousand words
Or at least that is what I heard,
As the shrapnel was picked from my skin,
From my face, neck, head and chin.
In times of battle you hear no birds;
A picture is worth a thousand words.
Didn’t die that day but felt like a corpse,
This deployment could always be worse.
Saw my brother take one to the head,
Just another day of annihilation and bloodshed.
Disabled battlefield conditions by two-thirds,
A picture is worth a thousand words.
In war it doesn’t matter the color of your skin;
Black white, red or yellow—a brother is a brother—like kin.
Metal shards pulled from your face,
From your brother—not a color, not a race.
Alliance of colors are like drawn swords;
A picture is worth a thousand words.