Amidst the chasm of bleakness therebreathes a heart,
With dismal horror and dread gnawing it apart.
Cursed bya legacy that plagues its existence,
It condemns that race which discardedhuman conscience.
Starving hunger appeased by cups of tears,
From theindelible scars, pristine pain sears.
Forlorn hope abandoned by the lachrymoseeyes,
Lost in the labyrinth of torment and despondent cries.
The crimsonground's screams rend the ashen firmament,
stained with red innocence,sentiments of harmony churned redundant.
Cascade of graves ocean the deaddreams lost to a pyrrhic victory,
Sabers drunk, addicted on lives fuellingtheir insatiable depravity.
A mother wails in pain for her child was bornalive,
Enslaved to a life harassed by religious aggression, where theholocausts of terrorism thrive.
This is the war, this is the battle that wehave waged against our alleged foes,
Crippled their legs, severed their handsbut unconsciously strangledour own souls.
Nations, drowning in theirself-righteous biases,
do they dare to look beyond their compatrioticchauvinism?
Do they dare arm a child with vision of peace rather than compelhim to worship the blade,
That child who questions peace,
is peace anassassin of war or the aftermath of one?
Is it the condition of a battle orthe pre-condition for none?
Yet hope springs eternal that a glimmer of peaceshall illuminatethe ominous horizon,
And liberate the world from the calloussteel and whirlwind of treason.
From its incinerated cinders, the phoenixshall rise, striving to embrace the morn,
And every shard of a tearit sheds shall refurbish its wings,which once were torn.






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By Tom M., Philadelphia, PA












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