I once dreamt a dream,
where I stood watching
and I saw widows crying, children dying.
Anger. Riots. Rage.
Ruins and smoke,
bombs falling, fragments calling.
Pain. Depression. Violence.
Broken houses, cities erased.
Bodies scattered everywhere, unnamed.
Countless lost.
Death. Death. Death.
I see the richest shade of red lipstick smeared into the earth.
So much of everything,
and still, death.