MIASMA

Hollow bones echo with incredulity,

Untested muscles sweat under ammunition;

Young warriors delving for false amity,

Suffocating in the miasma of dereliction.

How did it come to this?

The charge has been sound, war has begun,

Smoke has erupted from foot and hoof.

Immature martyrs we will soon become

Though our heads are halfway to the roof.

With carnal youth we will never acquaint,

We will never know the introspection of adults.

For we are drowning in waters darkly taint,

Conflicting for honour, and for our cults.

The sun shines morosely on our folly,

Our country is rid with hate and blood.

How ironic – we are soldiers who are sorry,

Though it was us who made the door shut.

How did it come to this?

The sky has paled in mirror of our fate:

We won the fight by killing them all.

Hearts dent with guilt, this pathetic state -

It won’t be long before we too fall.

Children we are, and murderers too,

Charged with the annihilation of our brethren.

Blameless perpetrators, victims of the ruse,

We’re sinners who’ll be worshipped by the minion.