Burden of Terror, oh Mother

From the ruins of her razed home
Stuck in rotting bodies she cannot inter
Is the burden of a frail old mother
As her lips quaver with songs of Rome.

An act of overtly grotesque bestiality
Of barbarity taking forestage without restraint
To circumvent reverse causality
And rescue engulfing evil from constraint.

Bare of emotion no one’s spared
Children! Women! Men hit by bullets
From the horrifying rattles of machine guns
The kra-pka-tat-tat of AK47s and Kalashnikovs.

Corpses left sprawling everywhere
With only a laden mother sobbing profusely
Helpless without hope from somewhere
The world in quiet complicity observes curiously.

Jude Fuhnwi

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