What War Is
by Lila Broadhurst
It's the bewildered eyes of orphaned babes;
It's the last crushing blow to finish old age;
It's madness, it's sadness, it's all mirth in chains;
It's hunger, it's cold, it's a lacking of brains.
It's a loathing of charity,
Born out of vanity,
Borders insanity,
Wrecks all humanity.
It's a lusting of power for a glorious hour,
It's an apple of greed, and a hating of creed;
It's rivers of tears, and rivers of blood,
It's loved ones laid low, and covered in mud.
It's a hating of man, and a sin against God;
It's a joy to the Devil, and a waste of the sod,
It's parading of colours, a call 'to the ranks',
It's a winding sheet bought by the Powers 'with thanks'.
It never can win, and it never achieves;
And the proof lies within the history books leaves.