Wars.

Saying last goodbyes,
screaming oaths and lullaby’s.
wondering what life’s for,
with these stories and rumors of war.

The crushed, tightly packed flowers,
underneath the lifeless soldiers.
As they tell them to implore,
into useless reasons for war.

As he’s called back into line,
the shivers run along his spine.
Has his moment come to no more?
Will he die a hero of war?

Blood stained jackets on the ground,
something so incredible would leave no sound,
they all fall down, these men where adored,
but claimed on the beaches of war.

Where is the freedom?
Buried in columns?
How could we possibly ignore,
all these stories and rumors of war.

© 2010 The Still Air