War in the name of protection

They sit far from the fire,

drawing maps with polished hands,

calling revenge a strategy,

calling slaughter security.

In air-conditioned rooms

they declare war

not with bodies,

but with signatures.

Their children sleep safely

while other children learn

the sound of sirens

before lullabies.

They say it is for the people.

But the people are the ones

buried under rubble,

counted as numbers,

called collateral

so guilt can sleep at night.

One leader’s wounded pride

demands another land to bleed.

One insult, one ego,

and an entire country

is offered to flames.

Missiles rise like metal gods,

obedient, blind, merciless.

They do not ask

who is guilty.

They do not spare

the unborn.

An atom falls

and time itself breaks.

Skin remembers what history forgets.

Soil carries poison like a curse.

Children not yet imagined

inherit ashes,

illness,

and unanswered questions.

A hundred generations later,

the wound still breathes.

Tell me—

what protection burns the future?

What victory poisons the womb of the earth?

What leader saves a nation

by erasing its tomorrow?

This is not defence.

This is desire wearing a uniform.

This is power drunk on destruction.

And the civilians

always the civilians

pay for wars

they never chose,

fought by men

who will never bleed.

One day, history will ask

what we already know:

the greatest threat to people

was never another people

but leaders who confused

ego with duty

and called it war.