Damascus7

In times most desperate,
fleeing towards safety.
Again and again.
Where are you running at?

Carriages blocking the torn up streets.
Mutilated concrete,
cracked pipes and
shattered glass.

Keep dodging,
faster than a bullet.
You can’t outrun blind cruelty.
Not even in a panic-rattled frenzy.

The city is burning.
But the one thing destroyed,
the most precious of all,
is the human soul.
It can never be repaired.

Mother is shot,
the child trampled,
the soaked doll, filthy and sad,
all laying in the street.

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