Iraqi Aftermath She was only six! The woman cried Cradling her daughter as she died The soldier blank could not compose As up to her feet the woman rose I spit on you and all your kin What is this hell you have us in? Is this freedom? Is this why you fight? How many more children, die tonight? Mam I know your angry and it breaks my heart This is not my War, this is just my part After the bombings I come to collate Success of the mission, or mistakes that we make She points to the little lifeless pile There's your mistake, one dead child One more tomorrow, maybe two or three If that is your...