Civil War

A country against itself,

A friend against a friend.

Both drawing swords,

In a fight to the end.

One wrong word,

One wrong move,

Pulling down helmets,

Steeds stamping hooves.

There was a dispute,

Over some land,

Or bad communication,

So to combat: hand to hand.

Sun rising,

Friendship setting.

This isn’t something,

We shouldn’t be letting.

Over the hill,

The rivals do march.

A thirst for revenge,

Unquenchable parch.

With a battle cry,

They start to charge,

No more arguments,

Now it’s at large.

But we shan’t let the sun set,

in a provoked state.

Just give up the fight,

Or is it too late?

Because if you take to the sword,

that is to what you die.

It's better for both to win,

than to say goodbye.

It’s better to forgive,

For each one of us is a sinner.

Because there has never been a war,

that ever had a winner.

(old poem, Revised from 2011 version)