Think pointless wars in places like Ukraine,

Where ungrown men are daily bashed to bits.

The battle rages on through sun and rain

And morning's loss foretells a later gain.

 

Lines move or bend, but finish up the same,

As reinforcements make sure each piece fits.

The casualties have no time to explain

The part as zero-sum pawns in this game.

 

The dead, we claim, like land, are cancelled out

By unmatched totals, buried in the pits,

And managing this boiling vat of doubt,

Is what, as time evolves, all war’s about.