Ye shall know them by their fruits

Genie Poetess

Had I the heavens to behold,
I would gather their pristine
Prayers distilled from Angels’
Tears,
Ever allaying children’s fears,
Who cry themselves to sleep, alone.
Forgotten orphans from forgotten wars,
Their skin colour the decisive factor,
As to why their agony is no longer shown.

Had I the heavens to behold,
I would be as bold
As a skilled actor,
Whose voice has grown
To siren like strength,
And roar to every nation—
To those who’ve silenced Peace’s clarion call,
The hopes and dreams of every generation:
Their own rancid deeds—will be their downfall.

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