War

We are the fodder made of flesh and bones

To feed the ever-hungry war machines.

Away from battles, sitting on the thrones,

The tyrants watch us killing for their sins.

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Invoking dignity and God’s commands,

They label differences as heresies.

Oh! Brothers take up arms and leave their lands

To rape and kill their sibling enemies.

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The gleaming medals on the generals’ chests

Are purchased with the currency of blood,

In purpose of the “noble” tyrants’ quests

For just some foreign lands of dirt and mud.

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Returning from the battlefields alive,

We come to be a wasted generation,

Escaping Death’s grip only to survive

In endless pain, a life of desolation.

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The cowards who wage war immerse themselves

In squandering and lavish recreations.

Enjoying safety far from wartime hells,

They fill their pockets from the flesh of the nations.

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War is a sickening abomination

Among the whole of humankind’s inventions.

Yet they seek warfare lacking hesitation,

Ignoring all the cost of their intentions.

/

Because the tyrants wage the endless war,

And peasants are the ones who do the fight.

No one has seen the final end of war

Except the ones who perish in its night.