The Guerre

It's called warfare,
But war is never fair.
Especially to a mother who's child breathes their last air.
And they ask, "Who is the aggressor?"
They point fingers(being guessers),
At the opposite side.
As for themselves?
They hide.
Now, in a sense, their innocence is lost,
By killing the innocent, and tossed,
By killing the enemy.
The planet screams, desperately,
"THIS WILL BE THE END OF ME."
As blood stains her emerald hair,
And her children fall, and die,
Thanks to the guerre.
But it's not really against the enemy.
It's against ourselves,
To test ourselves.
How far will we go, before we help ourselves?
We have to grow, to be the best ourselves.
I mean, why shouldn't we be able to X ourselves?
Malcolm did it,
And he ain't even have to win it.
Still, he made the world different,
And better,
And remember,
That's what really matters,
Leavin a mark for the people that can lift em up the ladder.

Copyright-K.O.I.