A dark abyss in a burning Hell,
Sirens wailing like a hungry child
Balls of fire erupting,
All encompassing,
Feeding on the madness,
As guns fire at the screeching planes,
Their pilots dropping the payload,
Messengers from Hell,
Automated,
Following orders...

Elsewhere,
A bright day begins,
Oblivious to the horror unleashed,
The multitude wakes,
Excitement thick in the air,
A greater battle at hand,
Do or die,
Strategies are analysed
With the devoutness of a General,
As people line up,
With a robot's single-mindedness
To win the cup,
Cheer their team to victory.

The world of today,
A blistering contrast,
Where playgrounds become battlefields
And homes are reduced to rubble,
Rulers lie and defy,
But revolutions aren't affected,
For even though blood is spilled,
The oil fields are secure,
And for us machines,
In whose hands the future remains,
Black gold is above all,
And the only red that matters
Is not blood but a cricket ball

~Rahul Misra~

 
"To save your world you asked this man to die:
  Would this man, could he see you now, ask why?"
-- W.H. Auden
  (Epitaph of an Unknown Soldier)