They say pain
makes poetry
so I wondered why
I hadn't been writing
then I remembered
pain is not what I'm feeling
it's what I'm yearning
in all this feeling
of numb

I decay in white rivers
   next to my mothers house
the old, green coat of yours
still covers all of your skin
but the wind took you from me
   and left me utterly naked
with parched veins here I lie
   above you the ground, above me the sky

and we are vulnerable,
shattered, and the
hills sleep in silence
oh it is magic,
our tiny feet
in the soft grass
dancing to the beat
in this world of glass

no days fill our hearts with only love
how could it be different, in a world like ours,
where distant countries are flooded by dead bodies
or even next door, in silent hours,
where our neighbours are
stabbing themselves to death
oh, we all are named brothers and sisters erroneously!
repress, repress, good old boy,
for it is the only option left
the dust of the fallen, mixed with leaden joy
but my heart is bitterly cold!
I am vanished like used munitions
and war seems to never end