Boys will be boys, buy him a gun;
No harm playing soldiers, it’s just childish fun.
Splatter your enemy, make sure he dies!
Revel in killing with bloodcurdling cries!
Don’t look so worried it’s all make-believe;
The end of the game wins them reprieve.
It won’t make them worse, I’m sure you’re aware,
The aggression in boys is already there.
Please don’t be silly, there’s no need to fret,
Playing at soldiers is a natural outlet.
Don’t stand there looking so conscience-wracked;
Live in the real world... WAR is a fact.
But inside my head screams a voice loud and shrill:
“Play is practice for real life; they are learning to kill! ”
And when weapons become toys and war becomes play
What kind of message is that bound to relay?
That force is the answer to all acted out scenes
Human life isn’t sacred... ends justify means.
© Ray Mather 1994
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem