A black marble wall is all that remains
of the sons and the fathers, just engraven names.

A wall made of honor, a memorial to the dead,
where many tears fall, but little is said.

Just forgotten heroes in a war gone by,
where thousands went over and a lot of them died.

Where veterans still weep for loved ones and friends,
When does it stop? When does the torture finally end?

The pain and the suffering, the feelings, the cost,
those who will never forget the first war that we lost.

Though few still remember, some still stand with pride,
when the bugle is blown for those who have died.

So don't scar their names or spit on their graves,
just think of their plight and at what cost they gave.

And if you should happen to go see the wall,
don't turn your head if the tears start to fall.

Just look at the wall and think not of it in shame,
each one was a hero, each engraven name . . .