Tom Zart


Paris Attacks & The Murderous Hand Of Man = 2015 - Poem by Tom Zart

War I hate, though not men, flags nor race
But war itself with its ugly face.
When we lose faith in the brave, which die
Then we're not fit to greet those who cry.

What distinguishes war isn't death
But that man is slain by fellow man.
Crushed by cruelty and injustice
With his enemy's murderous hand.

Evil loves to strike liberty from the cheeks of all
And it's been that way since the beginning of time.
For a mind that's not allowed to have a free thought
Becomes but a slave to the masters of mankind.

War tends to punish the punishers
So the losers won't suffer alone.
The essence of war is but violence
Till the survivors come marching home.

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Topic(s) of this poem: love and life


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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, November 18, 2015



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