Don’t you recall?

You aimed for their mothers first,
Ripping life from their bodies into newborns,
Then tore apart their families
With cruel rules that built cages.

You burned the life outside next,
Letting poison into their lungs and blood,
And scorching earth for your own designs
‘Til nothing remained unscarred or sacred.

Then you bared your guns and bombs,
Though crying when someone else used them as designed
To shoot whatever souls remained,
Massacring the ones you claimed to guard.

And those that survived losing all you took away?
Their childhood lies dead in the rubble.

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