Maybe things have changed,

Maybe not.

All I'm sure of is that _I_ have,

And that there is no going back. 

As I enter the small apartment,

The only noise I hear in the quiet room

Is the squeaking of my boots. 

Just like I expected, 

No one here. 

The war, a terrible, horrific event,

But I look back at it with fondness, 

because, for once in my life, I wasn't alone. 

They call me a war hero, 

And they expect me to feel honored.

But all I feel is the pain in my heart,

From all I had to do to get here, 

Not knowing it wouldn't have been worth it.

I drove to my parents’ house, 

and knocked on the door.

A young person of maybe 19 or 20 opened it.

“Hello?” she asked, surprised by me.

I asked for my parents, 

And she explained.

How they died years ago, 

while I was in the war.

So now, my fate is sealed,

A saddened, 

Lonely war hero, 

With scars that are deeper than the visible ones.