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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required He's used to war, he fights real hard, He's a soldier, he's battle scarred. The enemy is weak, there is nothing to fear, His compassion is gone, he has no tears. He was taught well, was taught how to kill, He's done it so much, it's lost it's thrill. He no longer feels bad, when the enemy dies, Tears don't come any more to his tired eyes. In the beginning it was against his will, But he soon broke down, and got used to kill. Never thinking that his foe, was also just a man, Like him with a family, doing the best he can. He cannot have feelings, for anyone, But then, for a moment, he thinks of his son. He wants to go home, but it's not time yet, So he goes back to a war, that he wants to forget. Next day on the beach, on his tour of duty, Lies a child's body, on the coast of Turkey. He cannot believe what he sees with his own eyes, A cute little boy, with no signs of life. Lying face down, right there on the sand, He picks him up, with his big strong hands. And when he saw that there was no hope, The soldier realized he could not cope. He shuddered deeply...letting out a sigh, And that's when...the soldier cried. Now the whole world mourns that little boy, Many children elsewhere, receive another toy. Yes, people stand by, while these refugees die, Some see the news and say, please...pass the pie. John Derek Hamilton September 04,2015
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