It shall end, very very soon  But daily death eats us with a spoon.  With sugar laced and buttered utterances  And heartbroken feigned appearances,  They say SOON, but how soon?   Burnt, like fishes by a bad cook  And reduced to stories for books.  Conveniently, we have gone to war  Our stories, to the world now a bore  They say SOON, but how soon?   If we must win this fight  We must hold on tight  Realise your neighbour is friend  If we must defeat these fiends.  We must fight with peace! Then soon, very soon.    
Sharing Thoughts of Curried Rainbow.