Desolation and despair
Color red the atmosphere
Gunshots and screams
the symphony
The background changes
With every day
What does it matter anyway?
Gray headstones or bloodied field
Backyard or School playground,
The enemy will never yield.
Too many demons,
I long to shout,
Call to heaven,
Angels will help us out!
But one answers from Above
The worlds problems are too much,
There aren't enough angels.
The saying then is all too true-
We are born of many things, but only violence shows enough.