Poem of the Civil War

It pains my very soul,
To see my kin fighting in this fashion.
My very own children,
Attempting to slaughter each other.
When they were young,
Their differences meant very little to one another.
But now, their differences have grown into hate,
Hate for each other,
And hate for me.
They let their opinions take hold,
Of their friendship from yore.
They fight so ruthlessly,
They must have forgotten of their youth together.
But now as I ponder on the subject,
Thinking of their hate and resentment,
The more I realize,
This is exactly how my father and I fought.

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