Gentle Warrior

This is of the pain of war, for someone has experienced it first hand and wants it no more. This is how he deals with memories and the pain.

Gentle warrior,

why do you not fight,

why do you pick flowers,

and claim fighting is not right.

 

Do you have a gentle soul,

and sleep at peace during the night,

or do you have the nightmare,

of fighting inside.

 

For you not have the spirit,

to join the fight,

or did something happen,

to take your will to strike.

 

You pick flowers in the field,

and place them where you will,

on the graves of those in the field,

who died for others on the hill.

 

Was the cause just,

for those who died,

or they did die because they must,

under the orders of someone for no reason why.

 

So you will not fight,

for those who want you to die,

with a single tear,

you sit down and sigh.

 

For along the way,

you have lost your pain,

of the sorrow you have gained,

of those who paid that day.

 

For you are numb inside,

from all the pain implied,

of all the friends that died,

when they battled for a stupid pride.

 

For no battle,

is worth the reason to die,

for there are no victors,

on either side.

 

Can you live,

if you are dead inside,

living with all the grief,

of those lives you have taken in spite.

 

For everyone sees,

the lives lost in greed,

and pay the price,

and the sorrow for these.

 

War is the crime,

that we all see,

 as we live in tyranny,

or life in infamy.