The Olive Trees Are Dying.
The Olive Trees are dying. (not the title, but the first line of poem.)
They used to stand so proudly,
they could make Ares feel at ease,
nothing ever could compare,
but now nothing has the chance.
The child doesn't want to fight,
his sword's stuck in it's sheath,
the monster 'cross the plains is just another boy,
and with crying sobs he stabs.
The Virgin's been deflowered,
the warhead breaks her wall,
ignoring her cries it explodes right in her womb,
and now the water's tasting foul.
The skies are yellow,
the seas are red,
with dying gasps the people scream,
'why couldn't we have the olive trees instead? '