Unrecognisable.

Mother, I do not recognise myself;
what has happened to me?

My eyes were brown, mother,
you always said they looked like melted chocolate in the sun.
The smoke has made them black, now,
and they have been clouded by a darkness
which can see nothing
but the destroyed remains of our home.
My eyes no longer shine
with a child-like innocence, mother,
they are glazed over
with the cold, hard stare of death
and I can no longer cry
for my tears have been long dried
and I have no water
to replenish the drought of humanity
that persists in my soul.

My fingers were long and sculpted,
I remember
how you laced them with yours when we walked,
I don’t recognise them anymore, mother,
they no longer hold my prints,
they have been stained with gunpowder-
the prints of a thirst for power-
and they no longer belong to me
for they have been transformed into weapon holders,
owned by those who make me bleed a black blood
of armour, guilt and anguish.
My hands no longer create, mother,
they only destroy,
and the only paint available to them in abundance
is a scarlet red blood.

Mother, I do not recognise myself;
what has happened to me?
Who did this to me?
What have they done to you?
Why won’t you answer me, mother,
why won’t you breathe?

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