Lambs of the slaughter

October 22, 2005

We close our brother’s eyes tonight
A drought in heart, bloodshed comes as a flood
Bullet and gun in hand we stand and fight
Wise hands crave peace, foolish fingers crave blood

Thou shall not kill, remains written with knives
And bloody wounds still pour on fields of death
Some kill for honor, some kill to save their lives
Death lives in war, a war within a breath

Is it that war brings out the worst in men?
Or does the worst in men bring out a war?
The Devil burns the sulfur once again
As flood water washes upon the shore

So, what am I killing my brothers for?
Is this the Lord’s will or the Devil’s war?

Entry Filed under: Poetry, Sonnets. .

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