Rain,mud,bullet shells,torn flesh,blood. All that is here is sadness, hurt, and control all in the name of so called freedom. A man crawlingon his dislocated knees to a toy soldier who stands soluted to a torn and bruised flag with a rifle in hand against his shoulder. The rain pounded hard trying to bury the soldiers left behind and the mud grasps what ever it can touch dragging them to a never ending land. Water and blood cover the mans face as he crawles towards what is hopefully help but the toy soldier does not move or look beyond the flag. What is this place? It is not love. It is not paradise. This is not a place you wish to embrace. This is hell! What used to be a beautiful land is now a scar of freedom. The ground slugs on, not sturdy anymore. The trees die with echoing cries, the wind sighs as the land decays. The toy soldier still with death on his shoulder and solutes to hell. The man with the bruises, gashes, and broken legs for so called freedom finally reached the toy soldier and tugged on his clean uniform. The soldier did not blink or move he stayed soluted. "please... help me" the broken innocent voice speaks. The soldier did not move. "Plea...ssssee" cried the man. Then echoing of moans came from all directions as the bloody mud begins to rise. Toy soldiers broken in a game for freedom or is it just a game for nothing. The moans and pleas of these soldiers went on past the land of hell, but the toy soldier who stands so tall does not move. What is this place? This is Home!