Battles are won, blood has been shed, yet what are they for?
by Riche Lim
is it not, for the brave of heart, the soul of valor in which they fight.
The country, their home, bounded with a seal of lore,
yet the answer in which I seek, can not be attained with might.
For what are the sacrifices for, must it be useless?
the lives they have lost, to fight for our cause.
But what they did, filled with great and earness,
for us, for liberty, the one that stands up to our losts.
But what is liberty, thou shall ask?
it is but a gift, which our forefathers have blessed us.
The one, the only, gift of living, a never-ending task,
something that has been earned, yet lost by a mass.
It has been found, now it is gone, torn into pieces,
broken by war and anxiety, now impossible to heal.
Still it can be gotten, from the depths of our leases,
it is buried in our hearts forever, the liberty at our heels.
It is about liberty, about how it lasts forever. Because it is never lost, just forgotten, but can still be remembered.