And they are fighting still.

And they fought,
For raw meat, not even a pound,
The meat laid there with their corpses to rot,
Never to be found.

And they came to blows,
For barren land, not even a foot,
It is irrigated with the blood that flows,
Seeds never to take the root.

And they raised troops,
For a young girl, not even thirteen,
Wives became widows and whores in groups,
Girl killed herself, never to be seen.

And they killed,
For a bag of coins, not even a dime,
Bag exchanged coffin, the grave was filled,
Coins were never away from crime.

And they drew the sword,
For an auric crown, not even a nickel,
The multitude suffered without uttering a word,
Kings never ended to kill.

And they are fighting still.




P.S. This is my first poem.Hope u like it. I`m waiting for comments...