Thousands and thousands,
Row by row,
Leading the charge -
A demented foe
The general senses
The enemies near
And calls to his lot
As he looks on with no fear
He picks but a few
Being vastly outnumbered
With no predispositions
Or records of plunder
All privates to choose from,
And that he did.
Send some out to die
While the rest allowed to live
The battle rages on
The general sings broken hymns
Knowing the fate of his army
From the moment he picked them
Transparency in choice
For struggles do not matter
They would either live or die
And if true choice, who would choose the latter?