War

Decades bleed into the night,

A phantom scent of death takes flight.

The ashes of hope scatter like dust,

In the air, no peace, only rust.

A land cursed by echoes of loss,

Where the cold winds howl and cross.

Young hearts march to a bitter drum,

To a war that whispers, "Here they come."

Soldiers from hell with bloodied hands,

Marching in silence, desolate bands.

The drums of ruin, they call and wail,

In this cursed land, where innocence pales.

Heads severed from the brave and the young,

Buried in graves where no prayer is sung.

Children boiled alive in dread’s cauldron,

Where innocence fades, and nightmares are born.

We are the children of wrath and pain,

Forged from sorrow, lost in the rain.

Through the smoke, our spirits ignite,

Screaming for the fallen, lost in the fight.

Decades pass, but the cycle returns,

Innocence shattered, a world that burns.

Boys with fire in their eyes, unaware,

Finding mercy is gone, replaced by care.

Babies butchered, their cries unheard,

A requiem sung without a word.

Christianity’s curse, it pays the price,

While Orthodox prayers are silenced in vice.