War Machine

By
Give your body to the War Machine.

You’ll have fame, class, and honor.

Not that it’ll matter ‘cause you’ll be a goner.

Take the gun shoved in you hands and stand behind your tattered mass.

Give your soul to the War Machine.


Become it limp puppet on barbed-wire strings.


Don’t laugh, don’t sing, don’t dare to breathe.


You are nothing but a product of the War Machine.


Crush pure beauty in your palm.


Stick out in places you don’t belong.


Fight for oil…..pardon I meant morals.


Become part of the War Machine.



Battle, cleanse, fight, flee.


Make us hated for sake of love.


Make us burdened for years to come.


Become Earth’s maid and sweep up peace.

Join our blessed War Machine.


Take away our misery.





Join the Discussion

This article has 1 comment. Post your own now!

Thanks_For_All_The_Fish42 This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Nov. 27, 2010 at 12:08 am
This is quite the poem, and I think it deserves quite bit more attention.
 
bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback