Candles and Flowers

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I have heard that, in the end,
Love always wins the war.

But in smaller battles,
When the gunman grins,
And flowers start to wither,
And hope melts away like candle wax,
And brothers turn against each other,
And angry embers are what remain,
Of seething, hateful flames…

Prayers cannot heal our burns,
Nor will Victory bring with it Peace.

Featured Image by Martina K, under CC license.