Tuesday, February 19, 2013


A child was singing in the yard.
The beauty of an innocent life was embraced by joy.
As ordinary days would pass like the simplicity of the morning sunrise.
Not a thought in its world was infected by the evils of an unspoken truth.
A life immersed in games of hide and seek and capturing butterflies in all their colorful glory.

A child was singing in the yard.
As days lost some of their brightness, a somber melancholy filled the air, like waking up after an afternoon dream full of confusion and a contorted mind.
A state where imagination turns to a distorted reality of conflict between the powerful and the hopeful.

A child was singing in the yard, as screams were the only echoes of the morning due.
Cries of agony replaced the sounds of glorious hummingbirds and sirens of crickets were overtaken by the sirens of war.
Loss, destruction, and desperation carried through the air like a deadly plague.
A child sang in the yard.

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