Black flags hoisted high in some wild parade
Occupied residences, the terrified children cry
Under militant control now, Fallujah mourns
There's no time for petty metaphorical advance
Sludge tracks are worn, boots muddied, bloodied
It's a strange agreement to use their houses
for this, the extroverted violence of a dark regime
The Sunnis' purge, spurned; new conflict arises
In Ramadi they cry too, it's cyclical, this eternal war

When will Iraq see absolution
and it's people get to sleep at night?