Modern Day Macbeth

A mother walks through bullets for bread A child through shellfire for a sip of grain Young girls bleed in corners quietly Toddlers die in mothers' arm from thirst. This is the plot, world is writing on, Poets, presidents, painters even parrots all scribbling words on rubbles and ruins. An aid truck hums like ice cream van drawing children to their deaths. Graves are homes, morgues have IV drips beeping machines mourn louder than mothers. This is the setting, leaders are banking on. Protestors, professors, publishers even pilgrims all parading pain for policies and propaganda. Camera's click as children chase compassion Aid drops flutter like dying doves every countable rib is a bestseller, Prime time feeds on man-made famine. This is the climax, audience is locked on Photographers, producers, preachers even podcasters all packaging pain for premieres and praise. This is the modern-day Macbeth where power demands we slit our conscience to wear crowns. Guilt is a graveyard and every prophecy is screaming from scorched soil to sear our souls.