When he was young,
guns were just toys,
only a little boy.

Just the goofy kid,
could always make you laugh,
always had your back.

Now he’s older,
the day’s finally come,
for his father’s pride,
signing up.

Still only a boy,
dreams of bravado, courage,
shining medals,
movie reels.

And the first day,
when he starts to cry,
misses his family,
the girl he left back home,
he grows up.

And the first time he picks up a gun,
learns to shoot,
not just for fun,
first time he wins a fight.
feels the adrenaline, the addictive rush,
he knows he’s changed.

And now that he’s home,
such a long tour,
images burned in his shut eyes,
blood and terror, friends who died.

And he doesn’t talk much anymore,
about the scars of war,
girl he loved left a few years ago,
said he wasn’t the same,
said something had changed.

And now he sits alone,
with his shining medals,
remembering when guns were just toys,
and he was only a little boy.