The Ire Of War

Those who wield
influence should not chill,
with ill notions
twisted ire that war will.

Chaos fosters hate
which chills by the hour.
It moves in fields
killing all colored flowers.

The sky opens
with a strike of a pen.
Doomed are we
to repeat mistakes again?

Humanity needs unity.
Not notions of thieves,
who strangle freedoms
not allowing it to breathe.

Power is found
in innocent hearts so proud.
Not in ramblings
of tantrums that are loud.

The earth it bleeds
I see in corners of my mind.
I pray the hopeless,
open arms they do find.

The world has
turned so cold.
With ill notions
war stories told.

War is not
a flippant tale to tell;
such inclinations
are spawned from hell.

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