Death's Friend

• Katie Johnson, Grade 9
• Poetry
• 2015

It's ironic how the day you're born, Is the day you start to die, We grow, we age, we become weak, and eventually we say goodbye.

But some people lose their life, unfairly and before they should, Unfortunately, I did steal many lives, they’d avoid me if they could.

I consisted of guns, bullets and bombs, they were violent and scary toys, But what makes it even scarier, is that they were in the hands of boys

It was my fault why men left, it was my fault why mothers cried, It was all my fault and doing, of why millions of innocent died.

They didn’t all die the same though, some died in my palm out on the field, But others died in chambers, as the gas was strong and they squealed.

I remember one certain boy, He was brave, and his name was Ben. He died only at 17. He became part of me there and then.

People had powerful opinions, which is why I stayed for 6 years. Hail this and conquer that they said, too oblivious to see people’s tears.

Many people feared me, they would say that I was a curse. But what they didn’t know, Is that they were the ones who were worse.

Sorry, please excuse my rudeness, for not introducing myself before, You may have heard of me, it's true, I am the Second World War.