War is the ugly step-sister. She has no happy end.
Her dress is drenched in the blood of the innocent, the blood of the the wrong and the blood of the right.
War makes no distinction. Of this she is proud. Because she treats all equally.
So what if their fate is tragic?

Peace is her half-sister.
She is so elegant and so sublime in pure white.
Trust and love fill the hearts of those who stand alongside her.
She inspires and they admire. For her beauty charms, allures.

But War is jealous.
Her resentment overwhelms her.
She does the only thing she knows. Can she be blamed?
War stains the dress Peace wears with the blood she coldly drinks.

So Peace weeps.
And she asks:
Why?
Why War?
Why can you not learn to love?
Why can you not learn to build?
Why can you not learn to trust?

And War answers:
Because then I would be you.