I loved this country once. Wore its uniform. Carried its flag and weapons on my shoulders. Drove its trucks down crowded roads. Tromped its heavy boots through burning towns. Arrested and beat people, breathed in chemicals, took rocks to the face, head and neck, was even bitten once. For eight years I did everything you asked of me. But I said goodbye to all that when it became apparent we were nothing more than plastic soldiers being pushed around a sandbox by a petulant child, that you supported us by putting yellow magnets on your SUVs, that we meant nothing to you.
