WAR

An olive branch
I extend to both sides
To end this war
That none shall win
Words so cold and bitter
Pelting against the fragile me
Stripped of every innocence
Lost in a whirlwind of pretense
Forced onto streets of melancholy
Hunger strikes

Yet it is children who suffer most
Escaping not from Fate
But straight into the clutches of Old Nick
Where one lies
In restless slumber