Upon ones thoughts both sides face war,
For the pleasing mind a choice means chore,
Burning flames of fear inside,
One wants to fight, one wants to hide..
Incoming rounds of the emotional kind,
Piercing through the gentle mind,
Explosive flutters of fear within,
The belly of good buried in sin..
Good prevails for one short minute,
Hope seems sure, a chance to win it,
a counter attack off a flank unknown,
Returns those thoughts to a lonely home..
How long must it take to win this war,
To know what is right, to just be sure,
For no true soldier wants his foe to die,
weep in sorrow, or to cry..
So why does war always cost the life ,
Of the doting dad and not the wife,
Why does the good guy always die,
Why do good men always cry..
Why does the good deed seem so bad,
Why does it always feel so sad,
Why does freedom cost so much,
When did the human lose natures touch?