Blood spilled
Tears streamed
But no matter how much you beg on your knees
That’s what war can be

The child cried as his mother’s body lied
With the building burning to ashes
Ashes to the ground, as you hear the child plea
But alas that’s what war can be

The man strangled out cries
As his dying breaths suffocated
Underneath the collapsed building, trying to flee
But alas that’s what war can be

Remember the father who starved himself so his children could eat?
Who had been stripped from his luxury?
His happiness, his love? Who wanted to be free?
Is that what war can be?

What about the brother?
Who lost his leg, saving his sister from a shooter?
What about the sister?
Who died so that her brother could survive his gun inflicted blister?

What about the children?
Who think the parents went to the store?
Only to have the parents in a Ranger’s view
Lying on the ground, blood seeping through

What about the men and women?
Lined up, not knowing their final words
Tears prickling, not being able to see
Is that what you want your people to see?

But that’s all fine
Get the victims in a line
For it’s all for honor
For it’s all for power

What do you think
Goes through the people’s heads?
Oh how great is our country,
For being torn to shreds?

Or oh it’s fine your son died,
Even if you had cried
All this bloodshed is just insignificant clatter
to such an elite matter

What about the bloodshed?
The dead families?
The orphans?
The starvation?
The pain, the agony?
The tears?
The lost homes?
The children living in fear?
The bonds broken?
Is it all worth ego?
While you bet the lives like a gambling casino?

Imagine suffocating slowly and painfully, still having so much to do
Imagine watching your mother die, right after she attended the stew
Imagine holding your child, trying hard to erase all doubt
Imagine living a life, where nothing goes right and about
Imagine seeing your school friends cry
While blood trickles from your thigh

So go on with your slaughter
But remember the mother
Every eye you made shed salty water

The sister
The brother
The father
The farmer
The doctor
The peasant
The teacher
The student

So hold your ****** weapons up high
But remember
That once blood is on the hands
it never fades or becomes dry

I hold my breath
Until I reach home
When I let a big sigh
And know I’m in my safe zone

No one here to harm me
But
A trail of blood
I found on my clothes behind me

I’ve been snatched from my nest
And no one to find me
He came from nowhere
Like in a game of call of duty

A safe place is where I can breath
But now I’m not sure
If only you can find me

>My lover and I make a crime scene every night. But every night, we walk away with more blood on our hands. Not victimless, but witnessless.

            tell me what this carnal discourse is. tell me i can wash it off. tell me i can forget.

     >But no, the world murmurs back to me, no, you get to bathe in it. And then, just when you feel anew, you will open your eyes to a lake of lost lovers.

Happiness is a choice,
Your choice,
Your desire,
Your focus,
If so,what about
Victims of war torn countries,
Seeing your men, women and children die before you.
A country under dictatorship,
Not knowing if you will see the next sunrise for a minor offence.
Abused, abused and abused all your life.
Terminally sick,fighting for the last breadth,
Injustices, corruptions and poverty,
Never a chance to come out of it,
Cause it is willed in your destiny not your choice.
If happiness is a choice who would not take it,
If happiness is a choice
There would be no physicatrists,
no depressions and no suicide,
no shootings, no revenge.
If happiness is a choice bad would not prevail.
Whomever I have loved have left me,
I try to be happy, am I,
This heart of mine just doesn't want to listen.
I tried to find exciting and fun happiness,
I tried to find calm and peaceful happiness,
But there is still a void.
If happiness was a choice no one would pray or remember God.

when your son turned 18
I can no longer wear
my favourite shorts
or my tank top

when your son turned 18
you would send me
to my room because
my shirt is see through

when your son turned 18
even the slightest bit
of my skin exposed is
an abomination to you

you would always say
I know you two are siblings
but you never know what could happen

but mum, you don't understand

when you ask me to cover myself up
you automatically give him
authority to have explicit thoughts
on my body

when you ask me to cover myself up
you are not protecting me
you are protecting him