The world is ablaze with conflict,
To quench a violent man's desires.
The victims grieve their dead, some wish they were dead, and some think of the harm they could inflict.
The rest of the world remains just fine, leaving the war to those on the frontlines, because they haven't yet been caught in the crossfire.

The soldier faltered at the sight of his fallen comrade; then at the rest of the bodies on the battleground.
It was for his country so that he couldn't question its morality.
It was for his country, so he couldn't stop or turn around.
It was for his country, so any other thoughts had to be drowned.

The pregnant woman mourned the loss of her home,
And lamented the life her child would cease to live.
She ran to the safe house, soon to be bombed,
Weeping for all she had left to give.

The hungry child stared out of the window,
Clutching the charred remains of her doll.
She waited for her father to return with some food- she didn't understand why he was so slow.
She missed her old home, with her old toys and trinkets- but she herself had watched it fall.

The young man reached for a slice of bread to bring home to his famished children.
Trying not to die in hunger’s grip, he perished in pursuit of sustenance.
Like the millions before him, his struggle was left unwritten.
The bombs exploded with a resounding roar, but his life was lost in silence.

The pious devotee took off her bindi, as she watched her local temple burn.
She abandoned her faith to protect her family, to live for the hope of it all.
Her dead Hindu friends, and her religion coming to an end- could no longer be her concern,
For the only way to survive in this dysfunctional reality was to live life as a mirrorball.

The world is ablaze with conflict,
While the surrounding apathy fuels the fire.
In shadows cast by darkness, hearts grow cold,
As flames of hate rise higher and higher.

.    .    .