Chosen Land

Fierce flames of wrath soaring up high, blazing brightly across the sky, down to the hall where people flock, few miles across the hostile block. A desecrated land, divine. It happened fast without a sign. The culprits charged without a glance; Innocent lives, taken at once. Scene was bloody, fond hearts were torn, like nothing worse, since time was born; Young and old hearts, they gave their lives, parents, children, husbands and wives. The wrath of anger made its sway to the strip where the hostiles stay. It did not care who was to hit; It did not blink, even a bit. When will this great land find its peace when wrath of moon, it must appease? When will the chosen land find rest when will the heavens halt the test? *For one of my dream countries, and for peace* Society and politics poetry contest 4th place