Battlesphere
Ash falls down like ebony-black snow;
A storm of planes pass and the rain of bombs begin -
In a split second, a picture of turmoil is painted,
quickly and violently,
reflected in the terrified eyes of humanity.
Crimson flows like an endless river,
staining the hills and valleys with their murderous colour -
Flames burn away the remains of death,
but the stench of carnage still lingers,
choking away the remnants of life.
Watching the shedding of tears is painful enough;
Why do we need to be spun by cycles of torture?
If this is the world for the future,
then mankind's years are numbered;
Traces of life only etched onto the past,
to be blown away by the winds of time.
If only the fire of war can be extinguished,
to have the sun shine once more,
then the light of peace and harmony
will complete the puzzle of our lives.
Hopefully, we will board the right train
and head to a reasonable destination -
to a glorious, resplendent tomorrow.
