At one point I was so proud to serve,
Wearing my battle dress,
Ready for the call to duty,
A call only so many can hear,
But what do we do when we can no longer answer the call.
What purpose do we have,
Our battle dress no longer needed,
Our efforts spent like gun powder.
Spent to the point that we can answer and recognize our own call.
All that remains is a shell,
Of what once was.
A shell uses for a purpose,
And waiting to be melted down.
I am spent!