• Count the graves,
    Beheld on both sides of the battle lines,
    See the pain, The sorrow
    Of families torn apart by death,
    Hear there cries, there screams of agony of the
    People dying alone in the dust,
    Wonder why,
    Such pain could be allowed in the world that there so called god made,
    Feeling the tears, roll down there blood stained skin
    Wept silently by those who remain,
    Dream of life,
    Before the camps, the fire, the cold,
    Try to know,
    Terror they faced, forgotten by all,
    That Understand,
    Those who were killed committed no crime.