• To fight, or not to fight--that is the question:
    Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to fight for
    Freedom and die to end injust tyranny
    Or to succumb to the cowardice and fear
    And by accepting feed them. To live, to die--
    For good--and by die we say end
    The not living, and the punishment given
    For wanting to live. 'Tis a horrow devoutly
    Wished to avoid. To live, to die--
    To die--perchance to give: ay, there's the rub,
    For in that gift of death to those we love
    To give them freedom born of our sacrifice,
    We can give them no more. There's the loss
    That makes us fear dying for them.
    For who could bear the pain and loss in death,
    The loss of family, the warm embrace of
    Much treasured love, the warmth of suns,
    The laughter of small children, all those gifts
    That sweet life gives to us during time on earth,
    To fight for a cause that may or may
    Not someday succeed? Who would rebel then,
    To bleed and die going against those,
    Those that sow dread of punishment for naught,
    To emancipate one's people, from those who
    Kill for now reason, rape women and kill children,
    And make us slave away for causes we hate
    Than cower in our dark hideaways?
    Thus conscience can make fighters of us all,
    And thus the instinctive love of life
    Overthrows the need for grey survival,
    And inspires the great spirits and souls
    To go and fight injustice
    That ends beloved life.