Darfur

Gazing regretfully on years gone by They stumble across searching for a place to call home Their lanky necks sending out murky tune. Mutilated men in ominous attire! Lonely hearts littering the street Gray tears falling from the eyes of young ones Death has found delight in your land Writing poetry with the blood of your children Oh Darfur! Now the mud is prince Your flowers grow lice Your fingers wriggle among carcass like maggots in pomegranates See your children flapping like Bats of no dwelling Though peace is thy neighbour Unending rage of war owns your heart You old ploughman! Trading the souls of your children for a piece of worthless candy