The strife and fighting continue into the night. The mechanical birds sound of death As they buzz overhead spitting fire Into the Doomed towns where women and children Run and hide in the bushes and ask why, Why are we not left to live our own lives? In the pastures, converted into battlefields, The small metal pellets speed through the air, Pausing occasionally to claim another victim. A teenager from a small Ohio farm Clutches his side in pain, and, As he feels his life ebbing away, He, too, asks why, Why is he dying here, thousands of miles from home, Giving his life for those who did not
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