Victim of the Apocalypse

In the wake of today's events in Brussels, this poem is dedicated to all the innocent victims of a war which seems to be ever increasingly beyond our control.
I saw her emerge from the station in her war-torn dress,
She had blood on her face, looked a little dazed.
There was carnage at the airport too, I heard them say.
Seems the terrorists are having another one of their days.

It's all over the world wide web, the media is busy,
Trying to pull a story from the wreckage,
As the world shakes it's head at another dire atrocity;
More tit for tat. We never seem to get the message.

So who will we blame this time? And who will we bomb next time?
More innocents, no doubt, they're always in the firing line.
And more lines of refugees fleeing from the war-torn streets,
Pleading for a place in a decent society.

And we call ourselves civilized whilst rising to battle cries,
Be vigilant, be cautious, be suspicious in our lives.
And we cry out in defense of what we believe in,
As innocence is slaughtered in the name of accursed heathens.

I'm sure the Gods look down with despair upon their many flocks,
For many a millennia has been spent, trying to spread their words;
Words of peace and serenity, love and forgiveness,
Words that in the modern world, seem to be meaningless.

And once more I find myself offering deepest sympathies,
To those who have lost loved ones to another senseless tragedy.
I'm sure the flowers will be pretty, laid in bunches on the ground.
Yet I know it will recur, once the Warlords lick their wounds!

I saw her emerge from the station in her war-torn dress,
Another victim of the apocalypse!
Published: 3/23/2016
Bouquets and Brickbats