The Game of War.

The game of war,

Is a deadly philosophy

That strategizes how

To take lives.

It is not a game,

That is played half-heartedly.

It is not a play to sit back,

And enjoy, leisurely.

Do you know the pain of war?

The suffering the comes,

After the victory has been won?

The pieces are put together,

But no in the same shape,

Or order,

It’s too hard,

To smooth the edges,

That have been too damaged,

To be,

Recognisable.

But yet,

The pieces fit,

Like it should be,

The damage,

Disguised as something else.

They call it the new world,

The new country,

The new land.

But how can it be,

Thriving with riches,

When the land is marked by,

The ever present,

Game of war.

But there is the art of war,

That is not meant to harm,

To maim,

To kill.

It is a philosophy,

To save lives,

Wherever possible

To gain the most,

Whenever possible.

But it gets misinterpreted,

And becomes,

The game of war.

It’s a terrible game,

Meant for the better,

And sometimes ends in the better,

If only,

It wasn’t the in between moments,

That remained

Like when the girl looks back,

Thinking she heard her lover’s voice.

Or when the mother stops cutting carrots,

Because she feels a shiver down her back.

Or when the baby cries,

And the mother doesn’t know why.

This is the game of war.

This is the pain,

Visible

And unseen.

Still, they play the game of war,

Playing with human lives.

It’s just a game to them,

A game of politics,

And hidden agendas,

For profit,

Not loss.

They want to gain,

As much as possible,

When they play,

The Game of War.

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2 thoughts on “The Game of War.

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