After the War

A young girl stares at a pile of rubble
A place that offered the comforts of home,
Now a lamentable and unmarked grave
To her father, sister and young brother.

Her chaste ears rang when her mother was shot
While she was curled up hidden in a crate,
She crawled out when the uniformed men left
And held her mother until her last breath.

Her torn white shirt tainted with blood and tears
Not even oceans could clean her white shirt.
Blood stains that don’t even belong to her.
Tears she did not know she had left to shed.

She’s covered in fresh cuts from sole to crown,
With time they will heal and become thin scars
Deeper than just the surface of her skin
But her once pure heart and mind deep within.

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