Sorrow splits the night
like lightning in the sky.
I see strangers
with an endless reserve
of tears clouding
their red and bag heavy eyes.
Makes me wonder why
they had to live
to see their children die.

I pass by these borders you plan to build
thick brick walls to block you from how
all these strange foreigners feel,
but I will take all the pain they receive,
make their scars a permanent part of me.
I will see this life break me
of all those playful star trek fantasies
of how we will be better human beings.

Cause, I have seen babies wearing bullet holes
like little red onesie, and crimson bibs,

seen pictures of places we will never be,
decimated cities, with scars so deep
that even the stones bleed.

I shudder
knowing we do not need
Hollywood monsters
because real nightmares
exist over there.

Please tell me how
do I move on
from these portraits of pain.