The Conscript
He nearly
always switched channels
When it was
time for the news,
Decidedly
unaffected
By the war
they must not lose.
After all
there’s beer and fashion
For a lad not
yet a man,
Girls, and
video games to play,
A future
without a plan,
A course for
him to be chosen;
It’s enough
to be alive,
Not thinking
of tomorrow; then
The call up
papers arrive.
A few weeks
initial training,
Swapping
fashion for fatigues,
While men in
braid and business suits
Pursue
self-serving intrigues.
The front
line must push on forwards,
So the lad
is quickly led
To the
heroic offensive
And yet
still a lad, is dead.
D. A.
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