a cry for peace

I saw the face of a bruised soul

the tears he choked on, as he explained to the world

his weapons were nothing more, than some pittyful rocks

some the size of pebbels, that I used to search for

only to watch them bounce off the pond, as the geese flew off.

But his rocks, meant something more

a cry for freedom, for a land that was no more

Bounded in a hell hole, he now calls home

he chucked the rocks with all his might

against the fired bullets, that now decorate the city walls.

For every broken window, there lays a broken heart

of a widowed mother, crying from afar

watching the bullets bury in his trembling heart

a cry for freedom, as the palestinian youth falls.

"all we had were stones against your nuclear weapons and guns"

~dying youth

A cry for peace will never be enough, lets break these molds and unify as one

before the world trembles and falls.