Hands clasped under my head, wide eyed gaze upon the ceiling
In my bed, restless, suffering varied feelings
Home at last but not quite the same like before
I mean it's the same, but not for me, anymore
From the extreme, attempt the normal transition
Regain once again decency, from that of perdition
Children bear arms, for a country of no pity
Gaze upon their bodies, with but tears and sympathy
With fear they are born into this war
Their childhoods stolen, not within their realms ...by far
Laughter temporarily escapes, but not too far from fright
Take advantage of the calm, guards loosen, but slight
The need to live, within the ruins and rubble
Unlike comfortable countries, less survival chances doubled
It saddens the world advances, these adolescences left behind
I observe... and can't help, but think of mine
Although helpless, it strikes deep in your soul
The struggles, the innocent, all they know after all
Our kids toys overfill, pull a wagon of shiny red
They collect and scavenge, pull a makeshift cart instead
Behind the supermarket, crates of produce left rotting
Receive our fancy coffee, complain of the wrong topping
Choices of food and all that applies
The condition of our steaks, our abs and thighs
Suffer the ignored, a government that denies
Collateral casualties, the oppression deprives
Through the eyes of one, from a country so abundant
Experiences through travels, atrocities redundant
Unblemishly criticized, our so called lofty behavior
We westerners are labeled, through history tar and feather
Funny the Lord would bless one region
Here on the other hand, complete abolition
Mine eyes have seen the dead littered streets
I'm now away, but my brothers continue to bleed
Never in my mind, has vision forcefully inbed
Felled upon my hands, abhor the color of the dead
Nights I lay awake, uncomfortably comfortable
The recent life still fresh, query is this one possible?
Come from an essence, the land of the plenty
Where their means are meager, their resources scanty
Criticized we bicker, of life's simplest discomforts
Steadfast abominate, our zany opulent efforts
But will proudly loosen, do away with the noose
For it is our way of life, which we comfortably choose
