The soldier looked up at the sky,
And felt his soul fly by,
The war had ended many a life,
Through its command to struggle and strife.
The war had cut the heart of the nation,
Ending the people’s joy, ending their elation,
Commoners died, died their families and friends,
People begged their own men to meet the dreaded ends.
And there in the shed sat a boy,
Who had been made a mere toy,
At twelve, his life was in a mess,
His father died, his mother no less.
Death he feared not,
For even if he was caught,
Death was sweeter than this life of captivation,
Due to the war which had ripped the nation.
Why was the war being fought?
Just because some heads thought,
That the solution was violence,
Ah! If they had more sense.
That with war nothing can be got,
Except death and pain; a miserable thought.