by Joshua Brooks

Created on: April 21, 2008

What For...

The blistering sun shot through the sky,
Light danced on the ripples of the seas,
The blooming flowers reaching up high,
And the whistle of the wind whipping through the trees.

Hiding deep within the tall foreboding trees,
Away from the battle: taken by hunger,
A young solider, petrified, falling to his knees,
Dark blood gushing through his wretched fingers,
And praying to God, "O Lord please"

Across the battered hills and plains,
The dull sap of menacing machine-guns,
The eerie sound of the sick and the lame,
Then a bang, a soldier shot, as if for fun.
He crumpled and fell, just like his late best mate,
No one heeded him, just left him to die,
A meaningless loss, but victim of fate,
War is worth dying for,' that is a lie.

As sick reinforcements arrive in the car,
And hobble at the enemy, row after row,
As a helpless cow enters the abattoir,
All were slaughtered but not one of our foe,
Their lives were worthless just pawns in a war,
Counter attack!' screamed our desperate commander,
And so we charged, but what for?
War is as meaningless as we were.

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