The dustbowls have dried up yet again,
The waterhole that once was now in shambles.
The lone lotus bloom now nowhere to be seen,
The earth has shrivelled up within.
Once rambunctious terraces are now empty,
The canaries are back in cages.
The strings have been held taut,
The moats drawn back-
The Kings are held on their high places.
Mothers in my city hold their children tight,
For days are scarier than the shadows of the night.
A burning tyre rambles down main street,
The gutters are stagnant in plastic and a crimson hue.
Cricket bats now smash upon skulls,
Iron rods like swords drawn in battle.
Talk your youth down they said,
They are a rowdy bunch, they said.
Seldom I knew of my brethren swathed in blood.
The houses are now dancing in embers of smoke,
The wail of the residents as they scramble for their lives.
The laughter of the perpetrators I hear, somewhere close;
I wonder where the soul goes in moments like these?
I wonder whether our humanity wanders these empty streets.
I wonder if there should or must be a God,
For the deities have shut their eyes upon us.
Wanton sins like these masquerading as martyrdom,
For heroes seldom held the scalps of the innocent.
The monsters are out on the streets, my little one;
Stay quiet and hide in the dark corners of your home.
Noble actions are left asunder,
For angels have forgotten us tonight.