What if?
War is like a fire in the midst of an unsuspecting neighborhood,
All is peaceful until the match strikes and sets lives ablaze.
The ashes that we created to look like snow
blanket the ground and cover any trace of the aftermath
If only the bullets we have shot could be unshot
The words we've said unspoken
And the silent tears finally be heard.
Then the fires we have created could be extinguished.
Only until then will we be able to look in the mirror; satisfied
With the reflection staring back at us.
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