Little Drummer Boy

Ratta tat tat, as he taps on his drum The war isn’t over, it’s just begun He’ll play that drum until the moon shines bright He’ll play that drum till the stars come out at night With bullets flying over head He looks around and sees the dead Explosions and smoke lace the air But still he runs, and plays his drum He wants to cry but shows no fear Fear is something forbidden here To prove his self among the men Is what he dreams of again and again With tears streaming down his cheeks He charges faster, anger at its peak He grabs a dead soldier’s gun and fires To kill an enemy is his only desire But angry like a ravaging dogs bark Suddenly, everything goes dark As he falls to the ground and looks over at the others, The Little drummer boy thinks only of. . . . . .His mother. . . *I'm a huge history nerd and one night in high school, this poem came to mind.