Toy Soldiers

Toy soldiers
We all fall down
Some cry aloud
Some don’t make a sound

Blood is lost
Yet we never see
The pools of tears
That desperately flee

We hear a number
On the news
A number of deaths
But it doesn’t ring true

They are not our own-
Not my son
And
Not my brother,
Victory won

Just another simple
Toy soldier, dead
Volunteered so young
To lose his head

Numbers, not lives
Are how they are seen
Victories, not names
Are what they all really mean

Not my brother
Not my son
Just another toy soldier
Who’s debt is done.

Old men determine
What these young men mean
How many are worth
The principle that's seen

Young men are fooled
To go into war
Defending our country
And kill so much more

Soldiers come,
And soldiers go,
Disposable souls,
Numbers that show.

Heroic and brave,
Defend us they must,
But the reasons they are given,
In them, they must trust.

Toy soldiers
They all fall down
And although they cry
We hear not a sound.

This poem is simply a look at how disposable the soldiers lives are seen as. Each and every soldier is a brother, a sister, a son, daughter, husband, and child, and when we hear the death tolls we often dont respond like that.

Each and every life is a huge deal, and I support our troops, and although they are defending our freedom and our country, I believe that often they are tricked into going to war and murdering each other in many ways. Sometimes there are no other options, but these are the sons and daughters of America being killed, just like the 9/11 attacks that spirred the war in the first place.

Comments and votes are appreciated, always. Thank you.