We came together to this island, young and bright-eyed.
We believed we were
invincible, but oh, how wrong we were.
We are children, innocent and oh-so-naive.
Drop us and we break. Set fire to us and we burn.
How were we to know?
One by one, we are blown up, shot down,
and still we believe ourselves luckier than our comrades.
We take what we are fed, adopt gilded wartime words
like "patriotism" and "country" and "honor".
Our Generals tell us to strap on a gun, get in a plane
and kill, burn, destroy. Murder isn't murder, which is
crazy, but in a war, insanity catches faster than disease.
We try not to think of the death we've caused
and we stop our minds from wandering around to
make parallels between German boys and our own
little Snowden dying in back, and we stand and read
the bloody message he spills across the metal floor and we realize
it doesn't matter who wins the war to someone who's dead
and we wish we had known this all along.