A Poem About War

War, the muddy hell
Where thousands bled and thousands fell
Going as men returning as ghosts
As weary as death they return from their posts

How many a young man has set fourth to that place
With a jolly laugh and a smile on his face
Only to return bruised, battered, broken
As if from some dream they have woken

The guns fire the blood pours
Do you really believe in the cause?
That hundreds die for every day
Could you make the pain go away?

You could make the bold decision not to fight or take up the mission
That hundreds die for every day
You COULD make the pain go away