They were made from the flesh of our brothers
Chosen for their obedience and willingness
To sacrifice their individuality
For a society willing to sacrifice them

Crafted with the care of a precocious six year old
Who has just encountered finger-paints
This haphazard mix of metal and bone
Was smeared across a canvas
Of bloody needles and brutal discipline
The silver and red
A brutal mass of deadly contradiction

Perfect soldiers
For a society so twisted by humanity
And its mistakes
That almost children are only fodder
For a war fought in the name of ghosts

Maybe they’re lucky that we’ve stopped their hearts
For now they can never be broken