Where have all the flowers gone?

There’s a charred vine, on

the bullet-ridden wall.

Black foundations of a house

that had been.

Blood on the pictures

little teddy bears, with their marble eyes

popped out.

the earth trembling

with tank parades and explosions,

the air smelling a blazing sulfur.

little eyes shrunk with fear

watching those

with no feelings at all.

The green valley once full of

white and mauve and yellow

and blue and red flowers

is full of those bodies with empty stares,

chucked on the points

of bayonets.

The sun blazes in flashes

and then cowers under the thick smog.

The flowers are all gone

buried under

earth, 

bodies,

blood,

and emptiness.

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