The explosions in the street causes all to run and cover,

All look around for their children and lover.

Babies raised around guns instead of dolls with which to play,

Innocence and love stolen, as the young ones are thrown into the fray.

Mothers cry out for their babies, whom left, never to return,

Their parting waves into their minds burned.

Fighting to support something, which should never be worth a young life,

Or brothers, fathers, and sisters, or even the groom of the newly wed wife.

Men rise up armies of the innocent, naive, and young,

With rhetoric laced with truth, they say ‘kill to make yourself strong”.

Yet in the end, violence breeds’ violence, this truth is there for all to see,

For it’s never by force, but through truth, that all will be free.

Copyright ã 2006, Tim Benton

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