My Dear

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Wars were fought,
My dear
They were perceived not vain.
Tears were shed,
My dear
by thousands who cared.
Why do people fear hell?
My dear
It exists in today’s world
breathing this same air.
There is no goodness left in man,
My dear
It was all taken away.
Wounds are still fresh,
My dear
The dead have no blood
in their veins.
This is what it comes down to,
My dear
0ur world has been stripped,
broken and in bane.

If a poem that I wrote 6 years ago still makes sense to our today, it breaks my heart to say that maybe we haven’t moved forward at all.