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Satta MassaganaHeartless are the ones in a position of power Pumping money into unholy wars of bloodshed. Wicked are those orchestrating inhuman acts of violence and cruelty, All in the name of God. Heart wrenching it is, knowing as we reside in our secure abodes, Shielded from harm, Trembling human beings are at the mercy of detrimental bombs and evil weapons! Terror floods their complexion, Destroying any luminosity, Replacing their skin with a sallow, sunken image of dehumanization. A child's bedtime lullaby is a cacophony of headache inducing shrieks from ammunitions, and howls from thunderous explosives. Vacant eyes have witnessed nightmarish scenes of bloodied bodies, Mutilated like abattoir sheep. An overwhelming stench of burning flesh congests the senses. Swollen feet trek through alien territory, Desperately seeking refuge. Oh how we overlook the joys in life, Such as the gentle cooing from a new born baby, The invigorating smell of balmy spring air, free from toxins that sting the lungs, And our freedom to laugh and dance with no prohibitions. We take for granted our shelter and our jobs, The fact we live in a safe haven compared to the horrific conditions many poor souls face worldwide. How can we be so ungrateful and irrational, when our worries and troubles Will NEVER mirror the disastrous situations many individuals will have to face with no choice? Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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