Dark Times

What runs through my mind,
Is not play for a young boy
Or a doll for the pretty girl,
But the thoughts of an uncertain future
Memories of a dark misleading past,
And pictures of a disturbing present.

What I see with my naked eye,
Is not sunshine for the outdoor soul
Or roses for the careless lovers,
But the scenes of diminishing hopes
Trampling of life long dreams,
And trashing of childhood wishes.

What I smell in this world of mine,
Is not the fresh aroma of morning baking
Or the catching perfume of a searching teen,
But the stink of dying hearts
The stench of merciless murders,
And the smell of treacherous persons.

The sounds that live in my head,
Aren't those of cheerful lasting laughter
Or friendly chat of the promising days,
But those of wails of families lost
Those of screams of terror witnessed,
Those of despair and lonely existence.