Genocide Poetry

Poor wee souls no food and empty bowls.

Looking for feed.!! But where is children in need. 

Genocide indeed.

on the ball and chain,

They just want to go hame, no, not

Mental torture and pain again.

Poor wee souls no food and empty bowls.

Looking for some food even some grass soup

where is children in need while these kids bleed it's a genocide indeed-

I weep I sleep mother's kids and old yins get slaughtered like sheep with no mothers left to weep.

These poor wee souls, ball & chain,

Go hame! no no, only pain...

Poor wee weans, bound by chains,

Yearn for the peace of their own domains.

But only mental anguish remains,

A torturous burden, a well of pain.

These wee weans, chained and bound,

Cryin' for hame, no nae sound,

Just pain and torture, all around.

Poor wee souls no food and empty bowls.

Looking for some food even some grass soup is

where is children in need while these kids bleed it's a genocide indeed-

I weep I sleep mother's kids and old yins get slaughtered like sheep.

No food, just empty bowls, young spirits cry,

Seeking solace, even grass soup might suffice.

Where are the guardians when children bleed?

Military justice, a chilling disease.

Tears blur my vision, mothers' cries pierce the air,

The young and innocent, burdens they bear.

Walls confine them, no light to chase away the cold,

Empty bellies rumble, stories untold.

Grass soup, a dream, while hope slowly fades,

Where are the voices raised when young lives are swayed?

Occupation's shadow, a chilling decree,

Mothers' cries echo, tears they cannot flee.

Like olive branches, innocence crushed and torn,

Will justice ever rise for a future unborn?

Poor wee souls, with empty bowls they stand,

No morsel found, just roots scraped from the land.

Where are the children in need, oh where, can anyone say?

While innocent blood stains the ground, where hope fades away.

Genocide, indeed, a chilling truth untold,

A story whispered, with lives bought and sold.

Behind bars, young spirits cry, empty bowls their only guide.

They yearn for freedom, even grass soup, to quell the hunger inside.

Where are the voices when these children bleed in cold, alien ground?

Is their plight unseen, a silent genocide, their suffering unbound?

Tears blur my vision, mothers' prayers rise in the night,

Their sons, their daughters, locked away, futures stolen, extinguished light.

The old and young, like olive trees, uprooted, their branches weep,

Their lives, a sacrifice, on this path where hope seems to sleep.

Beneath cold bars, young hopes confined, they see,

No food, just bowls that mock their misery.

A child's plea whispers, "Soup, even grass would do,"

While freedom bleeds, a truth the world won't view.

Genocide's shadow stains this occupied land,

Where mothers weep, their young held in this hand.

Old and young, like sheep to slaughter led,

Their silent cries, a world's conscience left unread.

In Israeli cells, where sun rarely shines,

Palestinian youth waste away, their futures undefined.

Empty bowls mock their hunger, their pleas unheard,

As hope withers, justice deferred.

Israeli bars hold children, accused, detained,

Their childhood stolen, innocence profaned.

Mothers' tears fall, silent and unseen,

While outside, the world's gaze remains so keen.

In sterile cells, young Palestinians weep,

Empty bowls mock them, hunger runs deep.

Where are the voices when their spirits bleed?

Occupation's shadow, a silent creed.

Mothers' cries echo, their children's plea,

Lost in the system, a stolen destiny.

Barbed wire fences, concrete walls confine,

Young Palestinians, their futures entwined.

Empty bellies rumble, justice they crave,

Freedom's a dream in this concrete grave.

Mothers weep, their sons and daughters fade,

Innocence lost, a heavy price paid.

No food, just empty bowls, these wee souls cry,

For scraps, for grass soup, anything to survive.

Where are the helpers when these children bleed?

Genocide's shadow falls, a chilling deed.

In barren cells, young spirits cry,

No hope for freedom, only bars nearby.

Empty bowls and yearning eyes,

Aching bellies beneath cold, steel skies.

Where are the voices raised in their defense?

While shackles tighten, innocence suspends.

Is this a prison, or a child's despair?

A shadowed echo of a nation's prayer.

Tears blur my vision, mothers' children weep,

The old and young like slaughtered sheNo food, just metal bars and empty bowls,

These Palestinian youth, their freedom stolen souls.

For crumbs, for hope, for any kind of grace,

They yearn in silence in this lonely space.

Where are the voices for these children's plight?

Genocide's shadow hangs, a sickening sight.

Mothers weep, their sons unjustly held,

Their futures shattered, stories left untold.

Like lambs to slaughter, innocence betrayed,

Their spirits flicker in this endless shade.

No grass soup soothes, no comfort found,

Where are the voices when freedom's unbound?

Genocide's shadow, a chilling decree,

Mothers weep, their children can't flee.

Old and young, their spirits in chains,

Slaughtered innocence, etched in their pains.

No food, just empty bowls, these wee souls cry,

For scraps, for grass soup, anything to survive.

Where are the helpers when these children bleed?

Genocide's shadow falls, a chilling deed.

Tears blur my vision, mothers' children weep,

The old and young like slaughtered sheep.

Behind bars, young Palestinians cry,

Empty bowls mock them, hope seems to die.

Yearning for freedom, a mother's embrace,

Instead, they face injustice, a system's disgrace.

Where are the voices that rise for their plight?

When will the darkness of suffering take flight?

Genocide's shadow hangs heavy and vast,

These children's lives, a future overcast.

Tears fall for mothers whose sons are confined,

Innocent faces, their spirits entwined.

From elders to young, a tale of despair,

Their cries echo loud, a burden to bear