War

There is no glory

There are no winners

Killing behind the cloak of war

Won’t stop them being sinners.

There are those who start the wars

And those who are dragged into it

Not knowing if they are coming home

Or if their last candle is already lit.

Bombs. Gas.

Fire and blood.

Who knew their last days,

Would be lying in mud?

A march into darkness

Fingers touch the forehead

A salute to all those

Already thought dead.

A number from thousands

With a wish so well known

Repeated by millions

“We just want to go home.”