Wolfish, Witless War

War, a Young Man's game

For he speaks with Young Man's voice.

And his wild wolfish words a cause for young men to rejoice.

The old men pass him by, ears deaf with thunder lead

For old men hear by smell, and they smell the young men dead.

 

Well, my ears have gone early, and so each night in bed I stay

Smiling softly, knowing I will see the light of day on coming day

As Wolfish, Witless War howls to he who will not listen.

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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