Prisoners of war 

Anger was their birthmark, 
They had a future dark. 

Slaughter – kill was their game, 

They were to bring glory and fame.
They lay down their lives,

Fight with swords, guns and knives. 

Fear wasn’t made for these,

For they were made to slaughter enemies.
Some in the battlefield close their eyes, 

Others, come back with blood-curdling cries. 

And yet others are captured and held back. 

Tortured to death, blood’s in the shack. 

The war ends, but sorrow does not.

Made prisoners ,for their side they fought. 

They had opted for fame and pride, 

Now made slaves, just because they defended their side. 
The snake turns back, 

Goes into the hole hissing. 

Dead and alive honored, 

But what about the missing? 


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