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by golden
Rated: E · Other · Philosophy · #1640657
poem about evils of war
This is War

         This is a dimly lit room.  Filled with a moderate sized group of young men and women.  This is their orientation.  To a whole new life and hopefully a short lived one.  This is the beginning.  They shall see it through to the end, they shall mark its end.  This is where it began.  Where the members of this room went from citizens to traitors; where they became the first heros honored by never being honored.  This is when their leader walked in.  To give them their last kind words.  This is what he said: 

My Brothers and Sisters
My compatriots
I ask not that you lend me your ears,
But your very souls.

It is beginning
We are the vanguards,
The instigators, the visionaries
The cannon fodder.

The enemy we fight
Is draws power from hypocrisy,
Is fueled by its own oppression
And they are in control.

We are small in comparison
We are weak
We must be deceptive
We shall steal control

This Government must be cast off
Perhaps truly for one of the first times,
So we must appall its citizens,
We must strike terror into their cores.

History is written by the victor
The truth is subjected
It can be forced
So let us create an ugly one.

Life is precious
And we shall take it.
The enemies soldiers are merely doing there jobs and we shall kill them.
The citizens and often innocent and we shall slaughter them.

This room in which we stand is small,
we are but a fraction
Our army is larger and meeting everywhere
We are the chosen.

Those of us who die
are not the martyrs for our cause
Those of us who live
Will become the martyrs for justice.

This is war,
And wars are not won by fair play
War is Hell
And we shall reign it down upon this land.

What we do is necessary,
But it is not right, we shall become known as Darkness’ spawn
And when these measures win us the war
We shall face our punishment.

Justice will be done,
We shall redefine revolution
As the terror it is:
As the absolute last resort. 

So do not die on our fields of battle
That would be escaping
We do not deserve that Soldiers honor,
Our actions shall be rewarded with a traitors execution!

So come with me, my Brothers my Sisters
There shall be no medals, no procession
Follow me to the gallows
So that we can smile at our own hang man’s noose.

© Copyright 2010 golden (golden5 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1640657