War, we make and mend,
and in our troubled times we do our best,
we persevere and if we survive, we are blessed,
for luck and fortitude can be a second guess,
and no matter the mind or the intellect,
a split-second decision can bring about great distress,
for the screams and the sighs can easily appear,
for death it haunts us all,
all, who walk the grounds where war appears,
for it is created in such misunderstanding and malcontent,
and it leaves haunted looks,
and limbs blown off,
and people shot through with bullets,
and vicious brutal people who barely repent,
and so, the blood soaks the Earth,
and fills the eyes millions of times,
and how easily we become subhuman,
guided by our leaders lies,
oh, what has this world become,
when we have not stopped killing after thousands of years,
with stones and rocks,
swords and knives,
and bombs,
bullets and guns,
and as many times as we can,
with such great blood lust in humanities eyes,
the human race,
because of which, does so often,
and so, so horrifically come undone.