Armenian War Child
This child of war,
feel as her blood runs cold.
Observe the festered wounds upon her feet,
the bullet hole in her head.
Why would someone wish such innocence dead?
Her mother slain by her side.
Her brothers and sisters, all have died.
Her father cradles the lifeless body in his grasp.
Weeping frantically, with hatred in his soul.
The demons came and murdered,
left all for dead.
The world’s turned a blind eye to their plight.
The brave few that do remain,
fight to end their children’s suffering and pain.
Tired of watching their sons beheaded,
their daughters molested,
their wives and mothers burnt alive.
The burning of their towns and homes darkens the skies.
Their religion mocked, their priests disemboweled,
left hanging in the center of town.
They fight to preserve their way of life,
but the world’s turned a blind eye to their strife.
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