Some say there's an art to war
A complex system suggests
To devour the enemy,
War reduced to strategy
Full of complicated tests.

Yet one may begin to think
Of war's morality fare;
To fight to the fated death,
A murderous and known snare.

It's treacherous to think
Of the benefits at best,
To try to cover the truth,
Dreading of the vicious rest.

But is there really an end
To this maddening disease?
Is there some sort of magic,
Any type of peace to seize?

I fear the doubt rising here,
A wave of eternal scars;
Is there a level to reach,
Past the broken bars?

There may be an end to this,
Patience is all that is left,
So let us hope, let us yearn
For an end to this life theft.

So give in, or give it all;
Your happiness and freedom.
For as we've seen time again,
The pattern well-known to the -
A pattern we call bellum.