The rack that I wore just as colorful reminders of what was expected to adore.
From the dead to dying oak leafs that rest along my path.
To the stars of the wars. willfully chosen. Without hesitation, ready to bear this unknown, unexpected fear.

The painful sacrifice is cleverly hidden behind echelon stripes portraying leadership. What have I really been a part of but another hollow attempt inorder to be praised with easily erased words etched upon elegant parchment. Always reminded never to let the story be told. Sold by a cunning distraction, a reward for those who shut their mouths and move forward

The whistling...