No More Games


No More

Life Changes


When he was just a little boy
He�d play games of war
Defeating unknown enemies
As peace he did restore.

He�d line up all his soldiers
And march them to and fro
Preparing for a sneak attack
Against an unseen foe.

But now that he�s a grown man
The gun he holds is real
The war he�s in, is not a game,
He now kills men for real.

Around him missiles light the sky,
And men cry out in pain
Punctured by hard bullets
In this war he can�t explain.

He lays there bleeding in the trench
As tears fall from his eyes.
He prays to God that wars will end.
He breathes once more and dies.

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Copyright �1998 by Sheila B. Roark. All rights reserved.
Published in Poetry the Write Way: Webstatic � First Journey (Sept. 2000)
First Place – Poets of the Vineyard, 1998.
Sheila�s biography page