Because poetry is art too. _-Fantastica-_, this is for ya.

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My name is Philip,

When the last cries of war are done
When the rain washes out the blood
I will be standing there, on the battlefield, Drenched in water and mud.

The sun will be shining
My eyes will be smiling
Because I know my father will survive.

But when push comes to shove
And I have been too late to realize
That I will not carry on my family's name,
I pray for my father in the sky.

Because

When the last cries of war are done
When the rain washes out the blood
I will be in heaven, witnessing it all
From the stabbing of hearts to the souls in the flood.

I am a poet.