In case you aren't aware, conscientious objectors were the people during WW1 that refused to fight in the war.
A soldier fights, that is unquestionable,
For his friends, his family, his country;
He clings to the gun that sits in his hand,
The only defence he has been given.
His thoughts often wander to the life he left behind,
The peaceful tranquillity he once lived in,
The peace other men still reside within;
Conscientious objectors, more like filthy cowards.
The cowards relish in their protection,
Enjoying everything life has to subdue;
Without a thought to those providing their freedom,
Or what those risk every second they fight.
These cowards sit at home,
With a glass of brandy clutched in their hands;
While he stands alone, deafened by the bombs
And watching his comrades die.
I wrote this poem at school in English and have decided that I may as well put it on here. We had to write about a soldier in WW1 that hated conscientious objectors; this does not express my view of conscientious objects as I am undecided whether their decision to not fight was right or wrong. RIP all those soldiers that died fighting for us English!