The Sentry of Mars
My little plastic army got their scars
By planting men in graves to free the slaves
And won their wings below the sands of Mars
By freeing cosmic diagrams from caves
Now old and gray I haunt the web to say
How burning coal will torch the evergreens
And tell the party hacks to find a way
To use the wind and sun to fuel machines
My tiny kingdom that I made with toys
Was built upon the blueprint in my head
The world in which I want to raise my boys
Has never heard a word that I have said
As fires and floods destroy the trees and birds
The only tool that I have left is words
Copyright 2026 Dan Willmore