A world where children are burning paper
Words bleeding off the page
Worn clothes draped over broken skin,
fleeting whispers of peace whispered
through cracked jaws of
and eyelids drooping over empty sockets.
Baked and burned,
Charred skin over brittle bone
Melting flesh- seared off and torn.
Death makes them happy;
He gives them hope and
Watches their wispy souls
rain out of their decrepit forms;
hearts shriveled up-
that a million sorrow’d gazes gaze away but not a single hand reaches-out their way.
And still we scream for a better place
When all we do is stare unseeing into space.