I wrote this after I saw pictures of three young
amputees injured from service in Afghanistan.
You cut off my legs
then complain when I don't run to you
Blow off my arms
then grieve I don't hug you anymore
Pluck out my eyes
then cry when I can’t see your point of view
Somehow you think by propping me
on a pedestal, in the name of liberty,
I'm evidence you care about freedom
but I’ve discovered
you care only about yourself,
your safety, and your family
You grumble that
my immobile, blind, mass of flesh
is a strain on the economy
You cast me aside
to find other patriots
willing to make the sacrifice
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