Eighteen

In memory of all those who have fallen for what they believe in.

Eighteen.

You were eighteen when you finally touched the sun and danced among the stars.

Memory shining brighter than any gaseous sphere,

Eighteen and you became a martyr.

In this town, all war is holy,

Double edged Jihad fought by double edged sword,

Because when you rob a child of a chance to live,

You take away that which is sacred.

Eighteen,

Your American friends were "finding themselves" in European bars and hostels,

Driving fast cars and living faster lives,

Alternate realities coexisting in the same dimension.

Eighteen,

You found yourself in between struggle and structure,

A boy thrust into the metamorphosis of man.

Eighteen and you became a butterfly,

Still dangling from your premature cocoon,

Eighteen.

They say those that shine brightest burn out the fastest.

They say,

They say.

Eighteen and the only women you had time to love were your mama and your Motherland.

You,

You learned about true sacrifice,

A far cry from those that cry over spilled milk and FOMO,

You've looked Death in the eye and given Her the middle finger.

She took you in return.

Forever eighteen.