wasted

"In vino veritas."  Plato

We send our youth to war

For our imperial designs

They return broken

Their wounds unrecognized

Their sorrows unspoken

We as much take the gift from the vine
The finest vintage year

The most prized creation

And pour it out 

Upon the floor

Ridding ourselves

Of the finest vintage
The abomination is
We've wasted it
Treated it with foolishness

The most cherished wine

Ignored, untasted

The chosen generation

Broken and wasted

In wine there is truth

Let us not waste that truth