Simple lines are drawn in sand
Before too long a raid is planned
Evading those so underhand
They would presume to claim this land
Off we sneak in battle dress
Such gentle men and ladies, less
To mop and mock the endless mess
Than blow things up, as merciless
To violence we’ve long adhered
We have become the thing we feared
And afterwards may not be cleared
Of careful killings, well prepared
Poor War has wandered far and wide
From hill to valley, mountainside
And sunk such fortunes, fear and pride
To foster thoughts of suicide
Promoting causes, long since lost
He breeds support and hides the cost
Our future terrorists to host
More pointless conflict, until most
If not quite all are lying dead
Two tribes with matching holes in head
Surrounded by twin pools of red
Both died for an ideal, it’s said
And what is left to selfless men
But legends of their struggle, gain?
We heed such calls to follow pain
Our children reach for arms again.
Katherine Shirley 
Sadly, these dice are destined to tumble until all lay flat on the table. I hate for everyone involved… You wrote your thought brilliantly, calm and resolute. You always do shine like a beacon, in the face of adversity, Katherine.
Probably would have made a little more sense here, had I said dominoes, in place of dice. Sorry, I got caught up in a moment.
I understood about the dominoes. I wonder what Truman would think of all this.