On The War
The war, and exhibition of human shreds,
A show of skulls, flesh, blood and bones,
A bestial game, turning men into beasts,
And abhorrent spot on the fair forehead,
A dance of death with the exploding,
Music of blasts and thundering of canons,
For fond glories, and vain victories,
For a piece of land or contradicting creed.
A field where aggression pretends righteous,
Where Carnage and Greed the twin sisters,
Always indiscriminate to false or fair,
Ravage about with roaring howls,
Upon the hapless weak innocence,
Who being offended vainly defends.
Change not the world into inferno,
Forbear patiently the existence,
Of fellows infesting upon the Earth,
Intrude no the limits of liberty,
Fixed to breath with solace and ease,
For tactics are ripe to the culmination,
Slight recklessness might result in havoc,
Leaving behind neither winner nor loser.