War Child (an original poem written about 20 years ago)
There is a cry from the rubble
A call of a child in trouble
Shivering, frightened all alone.
Listening to the skies constant drone
As bombs destruct nearby
The little boy prepares to die.
He sees the agony in the dirt
And wishes comfort for the hurt
He sees the crying and the pain
He feels the enemy's disdain.
He no longer sees his home
Just another battle zone.
He witnesses this bloodshed
And his life fills with dread
As his vision turns red.
Is he alive or dead?
An observer of reality or hell?
It's a war, who can tell?
image source: Pixabay.com
Well written!
Thanks, I wrote it as a teenager about how I felt about the war in Bosnia.
I enjoyed your poem, it was easy to picture myself in that position.
If photos aren't your own, can you please put a link to their source?
Thank you for the lovely comment and advice. I have edited the post and added the image source.