If there was no war,
I don't think "peace" would have been a word.

It was just an ordinary day
A day intended for him to play
The day is beautiful, he have been told by the sun
He can run here and then, and have some fun

Then somewhere, came a loud sound
His ears rung, as he fell on the ground
Everything has fallen, has fallen down
The smoke blind his eyes, in an ocean of bricks he was drowned

There was pain, there was pain,
And he felt it within his bones again and again
It was a bomb, it had been a bomb
Leaving him shocked, shocked, and terribly numb

He was carried later,
On a crowd where they just watch him suffer
Why are they staring? He asked
Why are the camera lights flashing, is it a must?
Why are they around, he wonder
Shouldn't they be helping him -- where's mother?

Where is she? Where is dad?
Why is this have to be so bad?
Have he done something wrong?
Why the explosion  has become his song?

Is this the beautiful life he was promised?
A life where war and bombs and spilling bloods were cherished?
Is this the beautiful world he was told?
Is this the once upon a time in a story book beginning to unfold?


With broken chin,
Blood kissed skin
Dust combed hair
People who waits recognition to care –
Is this the world he was told to be loving and fair?

His eyes sparkle with that of the explosion,
His lips quiver of that of a lifetime destruction
Five years old, five years old, was his age
He's the five years old boy, forever mark with one of life's cruellest rage.

Help, yes -- lend a helping hand
To save more innocence everywhere on the land
This isn't their war, their lives shouldn't be sacrificed, -- the young ones
Let's be human, just for always, just for a thousand once.

- Franz Bartolome Poetry