War

At first a line is drawn
In sand, its flow disturbed,
And a reminder stark
Of the minds of men perturbed.
The fateful die is cast,
How many lives are lost
In battles hot and plenty
With no time to find the cost?

A pale face in a tower
Looks out to see the dawn,
Her corn-blonde hair so long
It just might reach the lawn.
Or is it for the girl
That's sleeping in the tower
Enrobed with thorny briar
That resists so many a power?

Perhaps the battle lines
Are made against some devil
That threatens all the crops
And whose defeat will make us revel.
A monster to be slain
Should now unite our cause,
Though when the fight is won,
We'll kill our allies without pause.

So many reasons do we find
To shed the blood of others,
A different colour, race or creed
Could never be our brothers.
We care not about what's right or wrong
When we go off to kill,
For a little harmless genocide's
Enough to cure every ill.