Poem about war (2)

War, a cruel mistress, a monster that feeds,

On the blood of the innocent, on their unfulfilled needs.

It shatters families, and steals away lives,

Leaving behind nothing, but tears and goodbyes.

It's a battlefield of fire, a dance with death,

A symphony of suffering, with every breath.

It pits brother against brother, and father against son,

And turns our world into a war-torn battlefield, undone.

In the chaos of war, it's hard to see,

What we're fighting for, and what's meant to be.

We forget the reasons, and lose sight of the prize,

As we're consumed by the violence, before our very eyes.

But the war drums keep beating, and the banners keep flying,

And the soldiers keep marching, on and on, never dying.

For they believe in a cause, they believe in a fight,

And they'll face any danger, to stand up for what's right.

So let us pray for peace, in our troubled lands,

And let us seek an end, to this endless march of hands.

For war is not the answer, it's a never-ending chain,

That only leads to more pain, and endless tears of pain.

For in the end, it's not the weapons we've won,

But the lives we've saved, that matter, and how we've begun,

To heal the wounds of war, and rebuild a better world,

Where love and peace reign, and war is just a story untold.