War Child
The pungent odour of exploded bombs,
The silent road of sorrows and desolation; etched permanently in my skin like a tatoo.
Late nights, wide awake; hands pressed on my eayrs and douse the blaze with tears.
This is my prayer for redemption; dreaming about lush green fields where I could fly colorful kits and breathe.
Sleepless nights and fear of losing my life, tormented insidiously in my mind.
The horror of death crawls and hope diminishes each day with guns.
Yet I'll sing for freedom so my shrill voice does not remain unheard.
Devoured by solitude and hatred of a wasted conflict, my body clothed with rags will be a constant prototype.
Let the sharp smell of shrapnel be replaced by oxygen.
As I reminisce about the bygone days, wondering where all the good times have gone.
For I wish to live like a human once again.
- @XoriniRebella
I am a 24 year old poetess from India.
Read more of my works on my profile.