What we are
we call ourselves warriors-
but what do we fight?
disease, enemies-
but none of that's right.
we fight for land,
freedom (in vain),
we kill each other
for some stupid gain.
blood is spilled,
and wars are fought,
we're filled with hatred
as we dig our own plots.
one after
another,
after another,
after another.
we say its pride,
we say its whats best-
but this kid can't see
how we are better than the rest.
invade and conqueror,
machine guns and death,
we send more people out,
we come back with even less.
tears and
blood soaked souls-
seems like the real cost
of the ambitious goals.
This poem is about:
Our world