War, The Birth Of Death!

I was born old with the sounds of war
roaring through my head
and of scenes depicting
the fact that I am dead.

I am as old as war,
never to know peace
only sorrow, pain
and a cease fire that will not cease.

Brought forth in death
by man’s insatiable desire
to kill for profit and for pain
and war is my sire.

Though I may not have lines
or wrinkles on my forehead
nevertheless, I am old,
too old to live and so I die, instead.

War, the birth of death;
 for youth is drained and tired
but must fight to die;
as war’s bitter taste is acquired.

Written by,
Shelby I. Courtland
©2017 Shelby I. Courtland

And so it goes, our children are born but why? They are born, dead for their bodies are mere pawns in wars, moved here and there on the chessboard of war, driven to war by war hawks and warmongers whose children grow rich and fat off the sacrifices of our children who are bred for their wars. We willingly give our children to be adopted by the warmongers and then we host parades praising them for taking our children and making them dead and/or old beyond their years. The voices in their heads, never leaving them even if they leave the battlefield and if they come back to us, it is in name only, for they are already dead since war is the birth of death.