A Toll Road

It appears to be inevitable, That conflict is renewed. Where passions outweigh the passive, Becoming arrogant and rude. When the diplomats are silent, With nothing more to say. Our youth take up the battle, Trained in the warrior's way. Regardless of any victory, the Soldier pays a steep cost. As many return bitter and broken, As if their souls have been lost. They often are treated as a drain, In an enormous, rehabilitation bath. Since they couldn't be retrained as Pure killers, to become a psychopath. With time, some may heal, And even appear whole. Yet many others are left with a burden, To perpetually carry the human toll.