Who will be in control
of the skies?
Will mankind be left
as a mere lacerating relic,
after the fury
has ended dog-fights,
and deadly combats
of wars?
Will certain skies
be left
as a standby,
to mourn the horrific sounds
of death,
and the helpless sighs
of dwindling hours?
Can we bail ourselves out
of this hideous haze
of hatred?
When will we be free
from our savage
and futile tactics,
sponsoring wars?
Why are we all hell-bent
to crack each other’s nerves!
Fighting to finish…
Finishing our only D-O-M-A-I-N?
Can we not altogether
obliterate the face of war?
When we are finally done
with our stealth and skills.
Who will be left
to lament or lambent!
For us?
Not even a broken bird’s wing.
So far in war,
have there been any rewards?
Why are we always devising
newer, more unique, gruesome plans,
To make wars?
More wars!
