Feet clinging and shivering above the grounds,
of the deadly wars going out of bounds.
I am disheartened and facing against,
my brother, while the men above are
facing one another.
Slowly losing all my friends,
who are being driven away by negative trends,
the men above are fighting with courage
while the land beneath is filled with littered body wreckage.
We sign up for war in a positive way
but end up dying in a causative neigh.
“What should I do?” I question myself,
as the death is certainly and frequently true.
Why is the land being hurt by war?
Why is the dirt always an ignore?
Why can’t there be no world war?
Why can’t there be a bit of adore?
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