Cold, alone, half-awake, there he lay,
In the middle of nowhere, on the clay.
Back at home, he had the softest bed.
With silver spoons he was always fed.
Now there he laid, his face buried in dust-
Clothes torn, deep red, blood oozing out fast.
Wonder what must have been on his mind!
Did he try to move, to turn around and find
That his limbs were immobile, in severe pain?
Did he wish to see his mom's face once again?
Was he thirsty? Did he want some food?
Would he have said something if he could?
Did tears come to his eyes when he thought of home?
Of the childhood stories of princes, giants and gnomes?
Did he remember falling from his bike when he was five?
Or was he praying desperately that somehow he'd thrive?
Did he remember that toy he once got for Christmas?
How he would cling on to it as the months would pass?
Did he think of his room, where his comic books were?
Or did he keep thinking about how he was dying in war?
Did his eyes water as he felt his vision slowly blur?
Did he miss his family; wish they weren't so damn far?
Did that old tree in his school flash in front of his eyes?
Or could he only feel his dying heart heaving silent sighs?
Did he remember that girl who was all he knew?
Mornings spent hiding in bushes covered in dew?
Did he think about that burger from his college cafeteria?
Or could he only focus on how death was so damn near?
Who knows what his last thoughts might have been?
Who even cares to care about what a martyr is thinking?
For them, winning is more important that life itself!
Who cares about the ones dying, their screams and yelps?
Who cares about the mother with the empty cradle?
About the father who only has stories left to tell?
About how his brave dear son died for the country-
His eyes filled with proud tears, but his heart empty.
Who cares to stop this disguised manslaughter?
They fight, they disagree, they say "War! War! War!"
They can't settle it with words, can't decide what's right.
The drop of a hat, and they say "Fight! Fight! Fight!"
And there he lay, his eyes closed with his final breathe,
While he wished and hoped he could avoid his death.
There in the trenches, was lost a life so full of promise.
Somebody please tell me, how is war worth all of this?