I gaze into a picture;
one of a little girl; all alone,
I am sucked into it; as fluid in a straw.
In A shattered world I stand-
the earth desiccated and barren,
smoke clogging my nostrils; my senses.
The sickening resonance of gunfire,
The constant humming of machinery,
The deafening cry of the missiles…
Yes, that is the sweet tune they sing.
I remember the days of smiles,
days of laughter and cries-
now overflowing with hushed stillness.
I sit in a corner; amidst shadows where shots pass,
my misty eyes teary, fatigued;
perceived too much of human sacrifice.
Have you ever had to extend your hand?
Seize stones to protect your beloved?
If my eyes were yours,
Clearly, you’d shatter.
Yet, I only struggle in defence;
with stones in my hands;
it is perpetual.
As I stare into the picture,
fear grips my heart; never to let go-
But even in this fear gripped spirit of mine,
subsists a guiding glow,
A cocoon of hope
Soon to metamorphose into a vibrant, simmering butterfly
and fly without restraint; without fear.
how about that

any better :?
