Wars Are Not A Game. Poem by Stephen Pennell

This is not a game sold to amuse, No controllers here.

There's no restart button no rewind to hit.

You could have played this game last year as governments never change

No second live's, no try the other route. You died

No dinner on the table, and off to the match.

No 9 to 5 boredom, don't you just wish! .

Your in the army now my boy, your in the army now.

The guns are real and bullets kill, at the Politician's will

Who's the enemy today you ask, the captains not decided.

Religion or money will decide who's going to die today, my boy

The rich man's sons sells the shares in heckler and koch the poor man's son's rifle fires the shots.

Pray to your imaginary friend as no one else can hear a poor man's scream

Yet Prime ministers and presidents soon forget.