In the depths of his eyes, a fiery spark,
a rebel soul with a warrior’s heart.
Now he stands at an intersection,
with a cup and a cardboard sign.
He fought for justice, for what was right,
even when the outcome was not in sight.

His wounds run deep; they never heal,
each scar recalls the pain he feels.
Now he sleeps beneath a tarp,
alone on a park bench after dark.
A caged bird, trapped within his pain,
a soul seeking freedom, but all in vain.

Yet he continues to fight with all his might;
his spirit is broken, his hope fading from sight.
Once they called him a hero and embraced him;
now they cross theThe Lost Soul
In the depths of his eyes, a fiery spark,
a rebel soul with a warrior’s heart.
Now he stands at an intersection,
with a cup and a cardboard sign.
He fought for justice, for what was right,
even when the outcome was not in sight.

His wounds run deep; they never heal,
each scar recalls the pain he feels.
Now he sleeps beneath a tarp,
alone on a park bench after dark.
A caged bird, trapped within his pain,
a soul seeking freedom, but all in vain.

Yet he continues to fight with all his might;
his spirit is broken, his hope fading from sight.
Once they called him a hero and embraced him;
now they cross the street to walk around him.
Even when the war has long been done,
he fights on—a hero still unsung.

The scars of war are his badge of honor,
a symbol of strength, his eternal armor.
His constant hunger is a grim reminder:
there is no real honor in war.
He may never win, but he’ll never give in—
a rebel soul, a fighter to the end.

Through the darkness of night, he carries his torch,
A symbol of hope on an unwavering march.
But his light is dim now and nobody cares to see.
You do not, if you did you would act.
His spirit once served as a beacon of change;
inspiring others, he is now seen as deranged.

His battles are many; his only peace comes when he’s high.
Once a symbol of courage, his reward was a lie.
You let him down. You caused his pain.
You want to look away—remember, you helped create this.
In the face of adversity, his nation let him fall;
a hero’s soul, now forgotten by all.

You abandoned him when you abandoned the fight.
War is neither wrong nor right; it’s not black and white.
His legacy died when you looked away,
when you stopped caring and failed to act.
For a better world, he paid the ultimate cost—
a hero forgotten, but his soul is not the one that’s lost.