pomes of buddy don: The Truth Is

The Truth Is

How grand to see the tyrant's statue fall
From where it towered high above the square,
The dictator pushed out with no recall,
The people dancing, freedom in the air.

With little left to do but to rebuild
The scattered rubble of our shock and awe,
The profitable charts would be fulfilled
And we then with our honor would withdraw.

How could what was so plain turn so complex
As to become a trap from which no plan
Has yet been hatched that anyone projects
Could extricate us from what we began?

The truth is violence leads to no gain,
A truth that Abel taught his brother Cain.

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