Crusaders

The angry army marched
their banners proclaim
that they alone stood
for truth
and right.

Clenched fists
and angry shouts
filled the street
with rolling thunder.

I watched them
move,
each one
a ruined child
with fresh faces
hiding 
behind new bushy beards.

How can you explain
to such as these
that eternal justice
and perfect truth
are not ever established
by marching armies
of 
angry children?