Children of War

Soldiers that are far too young.

Guns are put into their small hands, expecting them to follow or be buried under the sand.

Cries of lost, yells of fury, screams of pain resound.

They are the ones who's white wings have been tainted by others.

The fault does not lay with them, but war twists wisdom.

Toys are left to rot in the corner as they take up more dangerous practicians.

All feelings are lost as they grow up too fast.

Their cold and heartless faces are carved in stone.

They do not learn to carry a weapon, they learn to be a weapon.

Reviews

[...]

you choose very hard concept. it s write very strongly . it s good when we write poem like this we have to really act with these evil things. thank you for writing .