Ode à Paris

there is no humanity

behind these random acts, that took away your sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, mother and fathers

took away your artists, music lovers, food enthusiasts, doctors, lovers and enjoyers of life

there really isn’t any reason to murder those who they didn’t know or therefore cared for

no answers to why such mayhem, panic and depression must overcome an entire nation in a matter of seconds

i guess that’s really the worst part

not understanding the logic behind the unimaginable, behind the unethical

accepting the fact that an everyday act turned into something so gruesome

the streets you walk on will never be the same, because those same streets you pass to pick up groceries or visit a friend, are where innocent people were murdered by those not so innocent

im sure shock still floods every community

im sure emptiness fills the homes that were once so lively and safe

im sure the sound of the grenades are still ringing in your ear or maybe the desperate cries shed by a virtuous soul now infected by the touch of a bullet,

much like ink droplets in water

you must feel guilty

for breathing the air that 153 people craved for as they panted for their last breaths

paris was a place patrons went to celebrate their love

there is no celebrating taking place anymore

only mourning for those that were lost

This poem is about: 
Our world

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