I am taught to obey your every command.
You ask me to move away, many a mile,
to loyally do your bidding, by killing.
Hey mama! When am I allowed to smile?

Across the partition, I see my kin.
I am asked to rewrite their fates.              
I put a bullet in a husband, a father.
Who will answer for me at the gates?

The smell of molten lead when I charge.
The smell of searing flesh as I flee.
My life will never be the same again.
Hey mama! Will you take care of me?

A sudden gush of incomparable love,
engulfs me as I walk in the door.
The music of my little girl giggling;
Hey mama! Will I hear it once more?

The mud, soaked with my brothers' blood.
Innumerable, with their heads askew,
breathe their last for a cause so trivial.
Hey mama! Does it look right to you?

When the mundane routine beckons
An uncharacteristic tremor is desired
Yet, I turn my back on the door
All I get from running is tired

Making my own path through the fields
Turning to see no one around me
A silhouette approaching from the sun
Against the wind I flee

Transfixed at the sight from way up above,
of the benign waves caressing the shore
Unable to take the step that I should
Unable to bear the thought for a second more

Shielding my eyes from the piercing truth
Eternally existing in blunt display
I close my eyes, and surrender to ignorance
All I seem to be doing is running away

Mr. Droplet was born from a fingertip
Placed on a wall expecting him to slip
Pulled down by his own weight
What he wouldn’t give to instead be on a plate

Every inch, a step towards non-existence
Giving it all he has, to offer resistance
Never once running out of breath
Doing all he can to avoid his death

But in the end, it was too late
Mr. Droplet fulfilled his fate
What was the point of it all?
His torturous journey down the wall

He looked at the wall from beyond the veil,
and saw that he had left behind a trail
Maybe that was the point of his existence
The result of all his hard work and persistence

Yet, in the end, it matters not
If he was kind or if he sinned
All it takes to dry the trail away,
is nothing but a gentle gush of wind