He crossed his fingers as he surveyed the numbers
The newspaper announcing those called to death
The lottery announced as the truly democratic way
To decide who would live and who would die
The winners left to wallow in their forever guilt
The losers returning home in a pine box to relatives.
Some mothers of these unfortunate slain warriors
Secretly hid their bitterness inside biting their tongues
While speaking proudly of their deceased brave son
Who ironically was no hero, just another young boy
Killed by mortar fire while hiding in a foxhole
Crouched in the fetal position shaking with fear.