Our Freedom Isn’t Free

Our freedom isn’t free
It’s fought for
Raging wars
So many give their lives
Hometown heroes fight for a better life

Our freedom isn’t free
Not given without a price
Someone’s son
Someone’s daughter
Risked and gave their life
Mothers; fathers
Never to see another day’s light

Our freedom isn’t free
Its price quite high
A fatherless child
A widowed bride
Everything forsaken for strangers
For our peace of mind

Our freedom isn’t free
Remember that when you’re drunk upon the beach
Someone died, left their child
Broke the heart of their wife to be
Somewhere, someone sits all alone
Her husband, father, brother
Never returned home

Our freedom isn’t free
Open your eyes
Appreciate the fallen
Show support and gratitude
Or you’ve no right to cry
Don’t tread on me

An Anniversary Alone

Candlelight and our favorite wine
A fire blazing in the fireplace
This table set for two
The only thing missing is you

It’s our anniversary
The third one I’ve spent alone
You aren’t in my arms
But in my heart you are home

Thousands of miles and an ocean away
I know wherever you are tonight,
You feel the same
My brave, loving soldier, I’ll wait

I always said I wasn’t built for this
Then you came crashing into my life
I’d not trade you, as love being your wife
Still the wars rage on and here I must sit

Wherever you are, wherever you’ll roam
I’ll be here my love to welcome you home
Until then, stay safe and write when you can
There’s so much to share when it’s over
My brave, loving soldier

About the author

Peony Ann

I am a mostly misunderstood child of the corn, born and raised in rural Illinois turned self-proclaimed writer with random, yet passionate opinions and views. It seems that I am self-taught because I was a stoner slack ass in high school who thought it’d be better to fuck around and see what kind of trouble I could make rather than to concentrate on a formal education. Who uses algebra in a corn field anyway?

My mission in life is to be me, be happy, and FTW if they don’t like it. I used to know what I really wanted in life. Since I was 5 years old, all I wanted was to be married to the same woman my entire life, be a doctor, a writer, to have a litter all my own, and to be the “token ‘hot’ Asian” in most settings. I just wasn’t sure how I felt about being a boy, because girls were just so much prettier. Now, as I approach my dirty 30, I have accomplished only one of those things successfully because, well, I’m Asian and we breed like rabbits, resulting in my litter of 5.

I aim to please, entertain and boggle with “WTF?!” moments. I even throw around a little poetry. Some will find me apPAULing, others hilarious, and some would maybe even call me a messed up kind of special. Those are the ones nearest and dearest to me who paid for all of those bibs, large crayons, and the occasional straight jacket to provide my short bus driver with for her own protection. Oh, and the ones who supported me through the transformational surgeries from Paul to Peony. I just wanted to be a delicate fucking flower, is that so wrong? P.S. I love my new tits!