Killing Machines

Shells flying through tranquil sectors,
Men falling like uprooted trees,
Bullets shrieking their names,
Irrespective of beliefs or nationality.

Far off in the corridors of power,
Men watch conspiring,
To convince the gullible
They have won.

Mothers, wives, lovers, and daughters
Sobbing in silence broken hearted,
For they know to lose their men,
Makes so many living dead.

Wars never make nations,
Hellbent on destruction,
Alas, the pride of men,
The past never warns for fun.

 

Poetry Slam: 
This poem is about: 
My community
My country
Our world

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