Pick Up the Pieces

As the world keeps turning on its wheels,
Turn a blind eye, deaf ear, pretend all is okay
As all fragile hopes and dreams shatter,
I ask, what has happened to my home today?

It is wild, crazy, a jungle out there,
Each man tearing the other apart, brothers killing brothers.
The dark smoke and ash stings our eyes, clogs our throat,
Try as we might to breathe, we still smother.

When this war ends, and the illusive peace prevails,
When all is said and done and the bloodshed ceases,
Will men tread on the corpses and stand on broken feet?
Will there be anyone left, to pick up the pieces?