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crossfire of rage

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harken to us, lords of war

and douse thy victims’ gaze

in searing oil that blaze afire

to which thine whim displace

-

weeping bythy burial

we but thine slaves amiss

and falt’ring tunes be sung awhile

the valiant be dismissed

-

spare us not these chiding words

weaveth in death’s delight

and feign not favor to the hordes

in ideals and gambling spite

-

the clash of forlorn irony

have slaughtered mutual will

and this dire, ling'ring idiocy

beget grief to thy children still

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to the victims of the conflict between this so-called government and radicals/militants - here’s for a brighter future in your imaginings and a life less-troubling in your slumber.