They pretend to look
They pretend to try
They pretend to care
To distract from lies

From the beating of the heart
Their heart skips a beat
Not from love or care
From the fear of defeat

They give into their nature
Like we all do in the end
For no man can die
From the kindness of a friend

Compassionate lips
Bound to lying eyes
As you search to cure
Your grieving cries

They pretend to look
But they’re all...
Just looking...
At themselves.

The sun shine scorns on the land which we are
No inch is not tainted with the stench of death
We have left our home, and traveled afar
To only now embrace our final breath

The hill of dead pile up, more and more
Some of the dead being as young as eighteen
No happiness that the future might store
Could be worth the price of blood we’ve seen

Like animals, are purpose is to die
Being canon fodder is our fate from birth
Happier is one who never questions why
One in ignorance, believing their worth

Next war for our sons, as they too must pall
Would be much better to not be born at all!

What is the meaning to walk, to wail the way
I hold dear to me what’s not and shame what’s what
No meaning, for meaning is meaningless, just as meaningless is meaningless
But what if purpose?
Is meaning purpose?
Most do not think this; though I do
Those words are similar, but not same
I walk, cry, think, live suffer for you

For you are purpose.