Days Of War

 *Days of War*

Warplanes soar as innocent blood start to pour

Dying is prominent, for some it’s become a bore

No one wants a war to persist, only the world

can fix this. Men, women, children, die, and the world cries

The love of killing is not rare

It’s just no one of mind really cares

Blood on the bed, blood on the chair, blood

in your face, blood In your hair

The bloodly little baby pulled from a dirt hole

eyes wide open and bleeding from it’s soul

The day of war is no friend to anyone

Every dead child belongs to someone

The appettite for killing the innocent is strong

All day long with no pouch

People run and hide under the bed, and

behind the couch. The day of war, is

the fire that needs to be put out.

**Writer George Wilder Jr.**

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