city of love painted crimson but not
for the passion and hope but
for the blood staining the streets
in unworthy unbelonging abode.
and i'm sorry. there is a place inside
me that aches and screams and yearns
and apologises.
those who committed these acts of
****** are not muslims as they so
proudly call themselves, there is only
one word for this type of man and it is
murderer.

when will i get to see
a world no longer scared?
scared because it scares itself,
scared because of hatred.

why can't we change the world?
because we can't change ourselves
is it too hard to ask for love?
is it too hard to change?

how did all this happen in the blink of an eye?
how did the world suddenly collapse?
collapse in a way it seemed like it could never
ever be fixed again

where will this bring us?
to a place of peace or war?
where will we see ourselves?
as of now, nowhere *far