A Game of Drones
It really is a rotten job,
To reduce these drones into blue blobs.
A tide of bodies come our way,
Giving us more foes to slay.
...
To the drones, is this war real?
Are these sapient lives we steal?
Or true to name, are they but drones?
Mindless slaves to Mizar's throne?
...
Still try to contact Federation,
But they're deaf to all our lamentations.
The Jet Force won't do anything,
For the three of us, alone in ring.
...
It only adds to our despair,
That the Federation's naught but air.
Of justice, peace, and honour talks,
But they refuse to walk the walk.
...
I guess for now, we trio fight.
Dealing with Mizar's 'delights.'
But can't deny that we bemoan,
That we're stuck within this game of drones.