Who is Left?
When flies are the only ones left to mourn
Will we finally realize our errors
Will we wait until it is too late?
Are we bound by the fates to repeat our forefather's erroneous ways
Is this what the wise elders call destiny?
When we convince ourselves
That the casualties of war
Are just one of many
An abstract figure on paper
Not a person
An indistinguishable number to be forgotten as soon as possible
Are we really better than beasts?
