War Child - By Luna Akasha (05/10/06)

Written whilst in Amsterdam (lived and worked there). While I was written this I was crying as I had such a strong vision in my mind...

Dust in the air, Ash on her face. She crouches in a dirty corner, Of her ruined home. Tears stain her cheeks. Alone she waits, But for what she does not know. Devastation lies everywhere. People run, People cry, People drop to the ground, Either in death, aching anguish, Or lamenting their gods. She sits and watches. Trucks of war drive past, On their path to destruction. Her house, a victim of bombs, She, a tiny witness of her families end. She has nothing and is a mere five years old. Wanting but a friendly face, To peer out of the gloom. A warm hand to hold, Amongst all the chaos. Hope is long gone. Death chokes the very air. People walk in ash, Carrying guns. Children too, carry weapons of war. Some of which are big as them. But she sits in wait and fear, For the day she will be no more.

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