This is a poem i found on the internet, quite sad
''My youngest son came home today.
His friends marched with him all the way.
The band, it played, and kept in time
as he lay in his box of pine.
Like dead meat on a butchers tray
My youngest son came home today
and this time he is here to stay.''
Full Version: Youngest Son Coming Home
Awww thats one sad poem 
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