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Rated: E · Poetry · Military · #1136486
The poor fight the battles for the wealthy elite.
He was just a kid on a dead end street.
The houses boarded, the sky was bleak.
His grandmother raised him and remembers when
There was still a dream for kids like him.

He stayed in school but it’s over now.
He just graduated into the crowd.

Here’s your helmet
Here’s you gun
War is the duty of the poor woman’s son.
The poor woman’s child is the chosen one who defends
The wealth of the rich man’s son.

We can say it’s for freedom
We can say it’s for peace.
But the sad truth is he will die for greed.

Here’s you helmet
Here’s your gun
We send you to do what should not be done.
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