He steps into his fighter plane,

And remembers the time back when

He was just an innocent little boy-

His paper plane was his favorite toy.


He would laugh around with not a single care,

Watch his paper plane as it soared through the air

And crashed to the ground- no death, no damage.

Now here he is, in this hi-tech killer cage,

Equipped with weapons, trained and skilled,

His mind repeating, "Kill, or be killed".


He doesn't know if he'll come home ever again,

Doesn't know if he'll ever fly the paper plane

That he tucked away safely into his drawer-

The last bit of innocence untouched by war.