WAR CHILDREN

From the same blood,

born of different ground,

ears beckon, to clashing sounds,

family and history abound,

in a blue and red lit night,

dreams of summer morning,

together in soviet glory.

Hands held, thoughts bound,

gray clouds, from old sounds,

thoughtless, in silver winds,

waking with closed fists,

hoping for peace.

Brothers bloods clash,

steel strikes stone,

spilling red to the ground,

breaking young bones,

children scream with anger and rage,

history in dust, with each bullet,

abolished trust.

Weapons and machines,

empty visions, shattering dreams,

children left breathless,

amid the metal squalls,

laying in the arms of mother,

as bombs fall.

In the midst of flames,

sons walk into hails of fire,

mothers tears spill, fathers hearts sink,

in the face of adversity and death,

on both sides ones they love,

now lay breathless.