Sons and daughters lied to fight
Made easier with a games delight
The two tall monoliths that fell
Were the catalyst for this hell
For country not-
Nor for pride
But for those of us who have died
The need for this I find triffle
Who are we?
Two boots, helmet, and rifle
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
We are made into so! We have to change it! Nice to know your feeling!