a badge of honor

A badge of honor, placed on his chest, next to his heart. Was it worth it? How can the death of harmless children and women be honorable? He thought. How could that be defending his country?. People are gathered for his nobility. The sound of the applause, his own son; with a proud face, wishing to be like him when he grows up. His wife with an arrogant smile, pointing at him; that’s my man.  Do they know?  The darkness he lived, the fear of losing an arm, a leg, or worse; a friend? Sleeping with one eye open, laying with the wolves.  the fear that comes along with the echo of bombs,  the ease that comes with the noise of helicopters.  The death of thousands, by just clicking a button. How can that be courage? How can it be honor? How can it be a protection of a country If it was aimed to a child ? he stood there, knowing that none of them know what he did, what he has been through. He took a look at his colorful badge of honor, knowing that the little boy whom he killed should have been wearing it. That boy who stood in front of him protecting his own father, was more honorable, he had more courage. a better reason to fight, to stand tall. He killed him for the fear, that he might, just might, had a revolver in his pocket.  Deep down, he knows he belongs in a prison, yet wearing a green suit makes everything acceptable. He stood there, accepting this lie. Because it’s easier to fake a smile than to admit a shame. He came too far to admit it now, he has a son; he prays “god, place in him a courage you never placed in me. Protect him".