And so, we held our ground;
For it is our right,
Our honor,
Our utopia.
But it was a long shot.
For here comes a missile, with our names carved on it.
Constructed with wealth more than we could imagine,
With care more than we could hope for,
With might more than we could amass.
And how are we to dodge it?
For we bear no shields nor divine protection.
For we are pests meant to be exterminated.
Alas! We walked like wanderers in our own home,
In search of hell, where we may survive.
So we hid in a bunker, but it was a hospital.
And the hospital was destroyed.
It was the elderly and children — people, innocent people — that recoiled.
And so, we ran;
As far as we could.
As we could drop dead as we did.
Here, a bullet in the chamber was balanced by chopped heads, gaining weight still.
Here, they struck and killed, earning glory in their name.
The city was aglow,
And it was not fireworks that lit in rage.
Here, a man was lost forever;
Who couldn’t see him in himself.
How could he? For he was suffering in vain.
So we hid in a bunker, but it was a school.
And the school was just a tool, to turn children into ghouls.
And so, we panicked.
Because what did we do to deserve this?
We may curse our mothers for bringing us into this world;
Or our fathers for not working hard enough to send us abroad,
For imprisoning us in this forsaken land;
And how will God explain this?
Where one man kills galore in his name.
But who are we to question fate that has encompassed us.
For we are nothing but mere shells, being shelled, to be shelled
Into our somber graves,
That no one would live to shroud.
And so, we stood;
Pouring out sorrow in the cafes of the wicked west.
For dissent was not a convenience: oh, how insignificant we are!
So we hid in a bunker, but it was a bakery.
And the bakery was set ablaze, as if it were a mockery:
Of how much we are valued.
Of what we deserve.
Of what is yet to come.
And so, we prepare to die;
As we hide in a bunker.
But there is no bunker anymore;
Nothing left to protect us.
All we see is an escapade,
A door:
That leads us to our children ashore.
The ongoing war crimes being committed by Israel in Gaza (and just war, in general, because there are no war crimes; for war is always a crime) was the most prominent factor leading me to write this poem. I tried my best to portray the destruction and misery faced by innocent civilians stuck in the clash, unwillingly suffering its consequences. I got inspiration from some songs by MiyaGi & эндшпиль, such as Saloon, Патрон, and Utopia.