Realpolitik in the Bullet Riddled-East
Trembling, the child weeps,
silently sobbing, tears rolling down,
moist cheeks speckled with dried blood.
Shivering, the child seeks warmth,
huddling close to the stiff corpses,
with faces blown off, limbs crushed,
not looking like mum and dad at all.
[ complicit, I sit back, hurling invective,
at the inaction, or the lack of reaction,
assigning blame, here, there, everywhere,
sipping my cappuccino safely in my cocoon ]
Famished, the child shivers in the night,
ear-drums blown out, senses heavy as lead,
as the dogs of war circle nearby, bellowing,
spewing diseased words from severed tongues,
waiting for the bleeding child to have fully bled.
I have nominated you for the very inspiring blogger award. Should you choose to accept please follow the format under my post on my home page. Blessings on your day.
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How very kind of you! Thank you for taking the time and for the nomination! I’m humbled
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You are most welcome. My time is something I value enough to share, it’s what enhances my time. Blessings on your day.
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Blessings on your day too
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