These boys follow boys
playing dress up as men
playing dress up as soldiers –
seeking refuge in uniforms
and helmets and ignorance.
Because war is glory
and freedom is love.
And it’s the thought that counts,
so if we’re killing in the name,
then ****** is justifiable
and slaughter is understandable.

They fight for their families,
but their good intentions
are caked in blood –
in every crevice and every corner.
Because war is hell
and freedom is an illusion.

So they come home
haunted, shaken
by the echo of phantom gunshots,
seeing faces in the black
of the night,
because they can’t sleep
after witnessing the life
of a young boy blink
out of existence –
at the flex of a finger,
and the twist
of an already warped mind.

Our boys go on journeys –
young and unafraid –
and return, not as men,
but as ghosts – as wraiths,
feeding on their own regret
and parasitic guilt.

Why do we indulge
in man-made hell?