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Starving, aching, bleeding, dead,
One step, two step, over his head,
A laying soldier, dirt and a flask,
I knew of him before, for help, he asked,
His arms a'floating, his knees a'bent,
A child he was, a life unspent,
But look, I thought, although inhumane,
He is next to death, put him out of his pain,
One, two, three, four, five,
For long, no one stays alive,
Family at home, praying to the sky,
But no one is there, to hear her cries,
The children weep, the mothers torn, without fathers, children are born,
Cries from infants, cries of pain,
Firing shots, an enemy plane,
Screams in fear and cries of loss
Plead and beg to the man on the cross,
Since the beggining of these words,
A hundred years have past,
Have we changed? To you I must ask,
Afghanistan, Iraq, to name a few,
Thousands of soldiers, dead, for you,
To live your life, someone else has died,
A brave stranger, giving you his life,
Their family mourns, while we all just complain,
About money, and objects, and material gain
And I pose you this theory,
Now the context has aged,
Look at our past,
We have not changed.