You Poor Thing

See the morning dew, how it touches all the earth. Smell the wood fires burning as the villagers begin the day. Hear the laughter of the children, playing in the sunlight. Taste the bread the women are breaking. In the distance boats can be seen, skimming atop the waves. Men sit with dulled swords and broken shields, mourning those left behind. Giving thanks for those still alive. They have protected use again in some far off land. Fighting those who do use harm whenever they can. Greeted at the docks with out stretched arms there are always hidden scowls.
"You poor thing, you who were deceived into fighting for some unjust cause by a king who fills only his coffers. You pitiful thing thing"
No sir, you poor and wretched soul who pity's the fathers, sons and husbands.
You vile creature who looks so lowly on the braves whose blood stains red the sands of freedoms golden shore. It is you who knows no just cause.