I grew up in the midst of a war
Awakened by bloodlust and sea of red
That I've become calm in every chaos
And grown to have become terrified of the quiet
The irony is there
All the tales of who have seen it tell
How was one soul they never really knew
Was wrecked enough to not be called one of them
When all you witnessed was a body of a child
A host of a soul of a soldier within
How did one person exist
To fear the peace of love and being loved?
The joy and solace of having a family?
The calmness and kindness of nature?
The gift of paradise by a deity?
How did one person find home
In something so outrageous, and wrathful, and deceitful?
To feel the sense of familiarity
In something so painful?
To enjoy the hurtful truth of suffering
And feel at ease at every destruction?
Beneath all that's witnessed
It takes a lot more
than what you see and what they say
It takes an infant
To be raised in a drowning bloodbath
Because to us,
Love is taught in a house full of rageful shouts
Care is being taught in abandonment and bodily pain
Calmness is shown in ways of panic
Guilt is coached in ways of blame and falling tears
Gratefulness is taught in ways of swallowing a lump in your throat
And respect by instilling fear
To be trained to think that
Showing emotions perceives to silence
And all joys in life comes with a price
Who would then look forward to living and life?
But then again,
I was a child born in the middle of the war
Where the good is introduced as a soothing lie
And all bad things are the sincere truth
It was fun
Playing with figurative speeches
The challenge to find hidden meanings
The amusement towards my surrounding
That you never really knew what seems
It was amusing, entertaining--even exciting,
Just until you realize the irony in things
'twas entertaining, if you see through
The metaphor infused in those stories
"I was a child born in the middle of the war"
You would laugh as if this was a humoring tale
Until you knew
That the reality for you
Is an unattainable dream for
Who knows who?
