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The bullets ripped through the air,
Destroying everything you knew.
The pain tears your heart
As a knife would steal into
A dying man’s flesh.
A bomb is sent reeling through the corrupted sky,
Screaming as it falls to the world below.
The street before you bursts into pieces,
You watch, horrified,
As bits of rock soar through the sky.
You turn your face away,
And shield yourself with your arms,
Though it does little to stop the
Bombardment of artificial bullets.
Your skin burns, as if set ablaze,
By the fire of fear that sweeps through the land.
The people cower, waiting for their turn to die
At the hands of the enemy-
The rebel fighters forsaking their own:
Their neighbors, their friends, their families.
Soldiers rush through the crowded streets
As you stand there, silent, watching this massacre.
One turns to you, faces you, looks you in the eye.
You stare at the face of a man you know,
Made unfamiliar by the fury in his eyes.
His arm is raised, his hand outstretched towards you,
And his finger moves but an inch.
You sink to the ground, trying to bring to words
Your dying thought:
Why must there be this hate and violence?