The ache of Nations

By Rogue

Sweet symphonies play,
While the world is destroyed in a day.
Soldiers sweep the fields,
but the orchestra never yields.

Boys and men are blown to sand,
While the Maestro just waves a hand.
Women cry upon blood soaked shores,
as tears are shed for mediocre scores.

We are puppets on a string,
Waging wars we didn't bring.
Keeping power upon a shelf,
That each man thinks is for himself.

Millions have fought and died,
But still we aren't satisfied.
How many bodies must we break
before we realize what's at stake?

Unauthorized Copying Is Prohibited. Ask the author first.
Copyright 2018 Rogue
Published on Saturday, October 6, 2018.     Filed under: "Philosophical" and "Poetry"
Log In or Join (free) to see the special features here.

Comments on "The ache of Nations"

Log in to post comments.
  • Commander_Cadaver On Saturday, October 6, 2018, Commander_Cadaver (267)By person wrote:

    War...war never ends. Nice write and welcome to DP.

Contribution Level

Share/Save This Post



Join DarkPoetry Join to get a profile like this for yourself. It's quick and free.

How to Criticize Without Causing Offense
© 1998-2015 DarkPoetry LLC
Donate
[Join (free)]    [More Poetry]    [Get Help]    [Our Poets]    [Read Poems]    [Terms & Privacy]