Fear grips, shackles tightly
chaining this mind; trapping
this soul in angry scars
of bullet-riddled walls.

In forced silence, mourning
another death – loved one
or stranger, it seems not
to matter anymore.

Mine, is but one more face
mingling with starvation;
empty hands, hardened heart,
shrouded in pained darkness.

Nowhere else to run to
and hide. In woeful plight
stranded. In misery
perhaps, destined to be.

Still, am waiting, longing
for peace, to come about.

Yldara 0412071009