I've want for this medal to shine proudly for so long.

But all it does is blink dully at me.

My dusty uniform sits in the closet pleading for it to be worn again.

The never ending ache that constantly reminds me that I've failed.

The certificate looks at me in disappointment.

It makes me feel ashamed and unworthy.

I did not fight that day as did every other man.

I cowered in a deep hole, wishing for it to all be over.

The deafening cries of young blood spilt striked through my still pumping veins.

Curled up in a protective ball, I cried.

No one ever knew I was there, no enemy, no ally of mine.

I was found by a little girl, she greeted me with such innocence.

I felt disheartened.

I was saved when I should not have been.

When I stood in that ceremony, being cheered and worshipped, I was not honoured or
proud as I should have felt.

I was just broken and indifferent.