Our Little Toy Soldiers

They left us marching two by two

And came home one by one

Covered with medals or covered with flags,

Their scars not caused by guns

Our little toy soldiers, polished up bright

Stood proud and tall, forever upright

And that's how we buried them, holding their guns

Then we restarted, using their sons.

Poor little Johnny has grown up too fast,

He lost his righteous youth,

No longer searching for a right path

No longer wanting the truth

Lost on the battlefield or buried in grief,

And never quite knowing a sense of relief-

Our little toy soldiers broke in the war

And never did find out what their fight was for-

And though they think it over and over,

The Devil keeps marching on.

This poem is about: 
Our world


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741