Wars, Guns and Ammunition

WAR, WAR, WAR,

Isn’t it becoming, a deadly BORE?

Who is the devil, and who is the whore?

Whilst the guns, and tanks, shall roar?

When there are wars, people may die,

And at their funerals, family may cry,

To me it’s a shame, to others a game,

Yet there seems, no logical gain…

Tanks & guns, shall fire in the night,

Scaring the people, with deadly fright,

Kids will be burnt, kids will be hurt,

Whilst they’re parents, lay down in the dirt,

Hear the children, pleading for help,

Forced to climb, down the dark slimy wells,

Instead of playing, the great long rivers,

Residing in the dark smelly sewers,

Walking for miles, to get to a drink,

Whilst ours flows, from tap into sink,

Isn’t it sad, that we DON’T care….

What it is like to be out there?

Troops will move on, without a CARE,

Not a scar, or a damaged hair,

Some will be martyred, ‘cos of their death,
Lives have been taken, right down to their breath…..
 

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