you have opened this war like a chest of toys –
men lay scattered about, not plastic but flesh,
expendable, save to those who loved, begot, never forgot them.
remote omnipotence, you play when it strikes your fancy,
leave the mess for others to clear while you occupy yourself with other entertainments.
spoiled child you are, with no concept of life, death, or responsibility;
others make your decisions, even as you command the puppet's strings.