The Plague to This Land

Just a little thing I find ridiculous. The poor dying for the rich and powerful.

Up their hands went as they cast down their doom,

The verdict was sent out, and it was thousands strong,

Calling for those lives that hadn’t had a chance to live at all.

 

The mothers did weep and the fathers did cringe,

As their little babies were carried away from their protective dens.

The wound from their absence was heavily felt,

Yet, of the pain, to the judge’s none was dealt.

 

They were untouched in their impenetrable domes,

Their loved ones and children safely at home,

While hundreds of those poor soldiers died being shot.

 

Some of them were happy to serve,

“Long live freedom and liberty” is what was heard,

Yet others were prodded, like cattle, to death,

And in that strange land they spent their last breath.

 

Oh, those hands went up too happily,

To sentence to death the life of another.

Yet never did they truly feel the loss,

And Congress never took the fall.