Another war is given birth,
The machines make dead
Innocent bodies fill the earth,
Because of shrapnel and lead.
How will it end, by blood or nuke?
Packages of death flies to
Far lands; the scent of puke,
Cause all man to be blue.
Rains fall with no one to shower;
Dead are the land and man.
Years of life pass within the hour,
And it’s part of the plan.
Man loves to destroy his own;
It fulfills his beastly will.
Be it by gun, by sword, or stone,
Man finds a way to kill.
Copyright © 2009 Leslie Alexis
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
As a survivor of W. W.2, I can attest this is chillingly true-Well penned. Deserving a rating-A10 Please read my Before The Next Bomb Falls