War is the ultimate crime against life.

Scribblings of a Petal Rebel

Wars between nations
Leave behind graves
And traumatised patients,
Who suffer cycles of abuse
That go on for generations.
The powers that be never see
Or feel, the jack boot
Or the crushing heel,
Or the torture conducted
Behind bars of steel,
As mothers and their children pay
The price in blood and grief
With every slice of the knives
That carve their nations
And their lives,
While they pray
And they fight back,
Rise up,
Or fall
And kneel
Weeping and pleading
For someone to send
An end.
A friend.
A response to their prayers
For Peace.
For strength.
So they can hold onto hope
And somehow stay alive,
Somehow cope.
And thus live another day
In the hope of their own release,
Maybe even live to see
The final release,
From war.
From greed.
From the insatiable insanity
Of more, and more and more.
Of the day

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