Wars seered into the memories,

Of the wounded, the broken and the warrior,

Or someone who possesses all three.

History makes up the past,

Spirits become mended,

And warriors rewarded with peace.

But sometimes, it seeps out

Of the pages of history books

And plague the present.

New enemies who produce the same horrors,

Or old enemies coming back

To break open old wounds,

Resurface memories rather left buried!

Why must history repeat itself?

Why endure the same horrors again,

Just with different players?

Who can be trusted?

Who will fight for the peace that was built?

And who will rather hide until the worst is over?

Time changes the warrior,

But it does not change the fate of war.

Will the warrior come out unscathed this time,

With just old wounds reopened?

Or will new wounds be made,

Lives lost and peace shattered?

Which shall it be?

I guess we will have to wait and see!

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