To suddenly be part of a war zone

I wonder long and hard just how
ordinary people cope with war
The oppressed must face
overwhelming force
Within  their 2 up 2 down whats more
Depleted Uranium
Yes of course

There’s little ordinary people
Can do but hide away
In basements or in cupboards
And inevitably they pay
With their bodies crushed
and broken tangled in the eaves
or discovered by the enemy
troops and shot
if that achieves

Dealing with a bully
as an ordinary soul
requires degrees of courage
and a spirited control
Some develop this
but not an awful lot
I’m very sure that some give up
and die there on the spot

Forgotten in a stream
of fire and brimstone
A void where once a family lived and
prayed
But now it feels unjust
For they perished in the rubble
like Rats lost in the dirt
And nobody remembers them or cares
if they got hurt

They became collateral damage
just missing off some chart
born to die, and be lifted
to be thrown onto some cart
Taken to some mass grave
and tossed in like rag dolls
They were born to die
and now they lie
With yet more souls

Who would have lived
or maybe died
but became statistics and relied
On American’s being a dumbed down horde
and thus they felt the rusty sword
Regime change, evidence, devastation
for the most ancient of nation

Millions followed in the pits
all of them were blown to bits
Collateral damage and salvation
and almost no retaliation