‘Dulce et decorum est’ wrote Owen, 

But that might have been a lie,

Told to generations of men, 

Who were about to die 

 

Some made the sacrifice

bursting with pride, 

Others met their end 

Uncertain, terrified

 

No matter which was right 

We remember them same

They both changed our world, 

And we love what it became

 

Even though this happened 

Long before my years

Their memories live on 

Through poetry, poppies and tears

 

The horrors of those soldiers, 

We must never forget,

To stop the future wars

That no one’s started yet