War

Tears mingle with the dust,
The gentle light of the rising Sun,
Indifferent to their suffering,
The bloodshed and the war
So many innocent dead all for nothing
Some man's dispute, is he happy now?!
Do the streets filled with the dead not pierce his heart?
Young children still looking for their mothers and fathers,
Not weeping by the dead but questioning,
Oblivious to the fact that they survived
But no-one else
Blood everywhere, now they weep
Couldn't always kill the children, could they?
But wouldn't that be better?
Anything would be better than a life in war
When anyone becomes a soldier,
They become a murderer
Never to clean their blood-tainted hands.