War


The final breath of innocense is exhaled from his chest,
As the soldier takes his place in line among the rest.

The fear is ramped as it's carried with the summer breeze.
The soldiers pray to God for help and fall upon their knees.

The mere concept of truth is in an instant swept away.
It's buried beneath rubble, hidden from the light of day.

The purpose for the fighting is a distal state of mind.
Nor there be a reason for the killing one can find.
Still.... The soldier marches on so as not to fall behind.
So tenuous the tune of war which leaves its soldiers blind.

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