Cry of War

I’m left with the sorrow of the last child
Enduring the pain of the last of the human race
This is our existence
This is what we now stand for
Weeping from the deception
The exhaustion from the voyage
Pondering where the child could be

Burnt objects
Sharp air piercing lungs with effluence and haze
Who can breathe now?
Who desires this privilege?
Shards of glass on the chipped and crackled pavement
Bombs of battle had arrived in the early morn
Lifeless mounds of men and women
Lying on the streets with the smell of nonentity
The sight of immense and diminutive creatures of what used to be
Many children that have fled to live another day
They are those who never made it
Dehydrated blood remains in spots and streams down these faces
Faces tinted by angels
Now only to be seen at the gates of what should be


The child is what stands
To exist with fear
To survive alone
How can the earth become once more?

Split lips enclosed with dirt
A face of welcoming colourless skin
Hair of gold fashioned by what they believed
Eyes of fright
Shuttering radiance reflect of the blue eyes of this child
The tears from the adversity surround those of which are depressed

Why does this child weep?

Every so often judgment can feel as if there’s another world surrounding you
Those that are good can make you experience the human race at your fingertips
The world is at peace and the forthcoming ashen pacifist will fly again

The modest child that remains
The bodies of several infantile and elderly
The lives that were broken lacking sympathy
The day of the last of what once was
Shall come planned a day of mysterious darkness

The power was given upon the people
The power is known to one-day eradicate everything but a small child
And for that day the dove shall not soar

The people contain the authority to decided
This is war

Learn by heart the facade of the small child
The panic
The pain

War has created us
War will end us

There is no escape