middle of the night lasers flashing
sounds of bombs and buildings crashing
children wake, scared and screaming
parents wishing that they were dreaming

living through their worst nightmare
wishing they were someplace else, but not there
all around them buildings ablaze
air full of a blue misty, murky, cloudy haze

sky seems full of fighter jets
as missiles are sent up to try and intercept
streets full of rubble and carnage
not a sight for children, of such a young age

but death and bloodshed, to them is a way of life
they know of nothing else, they know only of strife
so much bloodshed and hatred, through young eyes they see
death and destruction all around, a future shrouded in misery

these children, born into war torn zone
some with no family, or homes, on the streets all alone
children destined for a life of misery
children who are just war babies

they never asked to be born
for bombs to be dropped upon
to see parents and family die
and even at such a young age, they ask “why”?

why does there have to be war?
what is war for?
if only the war mongers would try
And look at things through a child’s eyes

and maybe then the fighting, that has gone on for years
could end, and the children would have no more tears
so, they could sleep peacefully in their beds
and not wake up to carnage, and more relative’s dead

but these children, who only fighting they know
who survive the bombs and lasers as they grow
are taught this is their life, and become the next war mongers
and leave the crying behind, for those much younger

updated by @ralph-jones: 09/06/18 04:14:23AM