Merrygoround, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Merry-Go-Round 1916 a painting by Mark Gertler

Merrygoround

Smoke so heavy to be cut with a stick
Every direction piercing objects fly
Some fail to fall though be painfully sick
While others fall silently as they die

War is now part of the cycle of life
Been with us since early man left the cave
Making casualties with spear and knife
Labeling them heroes while in their graves

Precious spilled blood now dried we make our peace
While holding our killing tools closer still
Violent hunger for war shall not cease
Daily we are seeking new ways to kill

Merrygoround continues with horror
On the premise of balance of power

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