This is a poem about war, and the horrors and casualties resulting from it. One inspired by the melody of the song [_Sarajevo_](https://open.spotify.com/track/3zyw4Vgvx6Sjxy7S6Eps5k) by Savatage—telling of perspectives and critique around the [Bosnian War](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bosnian_War) with their album _Dead Winter Dead_—and written for @v4vapid’s [Tin Foil Raps 2 contest](https://steemit.com/tinfoilraps/@v4vapid/v4vapid-presents-tin-foil-raps-2-a-paranoid-rhymes-contest). > Syria may appear to be a small country, but it is just the type of entangled conflict that can lead to a world catastrophe. It does not take much imagination to see Syria as the Sarajevo of the 21st century, leading to world war. > > _Ahmed Zewail_ ![Made in Canva](https://steemitimages.com/DQmbnzir2yz5eT3ouE5L1xwM4NsHLwPrZuftQ4HX6hThjua/Seen%20Horrorsof%20War.png?w=400) In a town far away from borders, somewhere in its square, a fiery combat thunders between mankind and airfare. It's been about four years since the war suddenly began, and its life was its people, but its stones now red from rain. The blood now stains those stones and it has been like this for years and watchers and wanderers share no laughter, only tears. And they’ll never find the answers as they see mortars fly. But they’ll watch and they will wonder as they try to survive. As the stars fall from the heavens and cast their lives aflame— as they try with might to guard their children from all the pain— an army soon arrives to their salvation and their cries, but hope is soon forgotten when helmets of milk spill lies. They force their way through the town and spare no lives at all with their numbers and their weapons aimed for living soul. Leaving destruction in their wake for all the town to see— some bodies over the stones, parts scattered with the debris. While the people of the town tend to wounds and bury dead the milk helmets press into neighbour towns where they will spread all the cruelty they will unleash—the death their weapons yield. Then call upon the others to come join the battlefield. All the world turns a blind eye as the news reports a win of the invading forces for their economic sin. And the leaders praise and worship for thousand coins or more— anything to see them through to Syria’s battered door. --- > It is not the horror of war that troubles me but the unseen horrors of peace. > > _Warhammer 40,000 4th Edition Rulebook, page 16_ ... ^{Copyright © 2018 Anike Kirsten} ^{All rights reserved.} _Have you voted your witnesses yet?_ ![Witness banner.jpg](https://steemitimages.com/DQmYp3tHrQg86zoZCG2iYMT55mmQ7YcW2uaaaQ3KTYBxT2k/Witness%20banner.jpg?w=400) _Follow me and stay updated with more posts:_ [Of Beasts and Men [Novel]](https://anikekirsten.wordpress.com/of-beasts-and-men-novel/) | [Short Stories](https://anikekirsten.wordpress.com/short-stories/) | [Artwork](https://anikekirsten.wordpress.com/art/) | [Poetry](https://anikekirsten.wordpress.com//poetry) | [Non-Fiction Articles](https://anikekirsten.wordpress.com/articles/) | [World-Building Tools](https://anikekirsten.wordpress.com/writing-tools/)