White poppies People running helter-skelter,
Mama is shouting "where is my daughter!"
Gunshots, bomb blasts,
Swords drawn from their sheaths.
We thought; it was a thing of the past,
But we still find it hard to breathe,
Hard to live, hard to see.
Beautiful white poppies in the garden,
Where every creature lives happily.
Everyone trusts no one,
'Cause a mother slaughtered her teen,
Little boy with a gun,
Side pockets filled with heroin.
Mama is smiling; she is hiding her body scars,
Given by daddy who is drunk in a bar,
Little children too scared to find.
Lovely white poppies and dancing trees,
Where the skin of the lake is sparkly.
Anywhere I turn, I only see crisis,
Still wondering if we learn our lessons,
Killing our boys and raping our girls
What will tell the younger generation?
The abominations? The division?
Or how we kill each other just because of different religions?
Maybe one day we'll see the sun,
The day we learn to hate no one,
The day we learn to open our doors,
To people of different colours,
Then, we will see
Beautiful white poppies on green hills,
Where they will bloom for eternity.