During the 2 minutes you'll, maybe, remember some of us.
The years of silence our memories still sentence us to,
The unspoken wound that can't be seen,
Carrying the memories of service,
You won't hear.
Standing tall, we'll walk by you,
Never showing the open wounds,
That cut like knives.
2 minutes later, You'll be back to your life.
2 minutes later, We'll still be trying to make sense of ours.
2 minutes later, another November morning will be forgotten.
Poem © Copyright of V Sunkmanitu 2010
So, you've had the message and the poem ... here's the song: