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One day, two days, three days, four.
One month, six months a year or more.
Devastation and destruction the causalities of war.
Not knowing if tomorrow itís death at your door.
Nobody really knows what each day holds in store.
Sights, sounds and images all burned into my core.
Death doesnít care if you are rich or poor.
Blood, guts and tears, only so much you can ignore.
I sit and I wonder what is all this for?
Is it all just politics are we all just whores?
Forced to fight a battle, trying to settle a score.
What price must we pay, what price before?
We say enough is enough, the voices scream and roar.
Hearts have been broken, in half they are tore.
Friends, family and loved ones all of which implore.
Bring them home safely; let them walk through my door.
Let not what they are fighting for be underscored.


BY: Tammi Lavachek