My War On Humanity
As another child died.
The mother cries, but not for her broken legs.
The other, spirit broken.
And bang! Goes another bullet,
Adapted to the sound,
She leaves her child behind, to stumble to safer ground.
It's not a choice which was given,
But half dead or alive,
She laid by her arm-less child, who still cried.
You'd think you could hear the jets soaring,
But there's more noise in their pain...
Less blood in their veins.
Not expecting any help,
Not expecting her child to live.
She shielded him from the next round of bullets.
The war has been on for so long, it's been forgotten.
The child had been torn, but he hadn't broken.
Too young to understand,
Why his mother didn't attend to his needs?
Why she didn't wake from her sleep.
Why he was helped and she left buried deep.
An apology on the behalf of humanity,
Which probably means nothing to your current state of anxiety.
I have words, no actions.
I can do much, but I have a family too that can't be forgotten.
So from the comfort of my bed I write this poem,
My art the only way to make up for my silence.
From India, with love.
Song of the day: Haloscene - Bon Iver
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