Snatched Poem by Inked Solace

Were the wings of Hope fluttering in the gardens of Kyiv?
No, their hopes were snatched away by madmen in power

Were the souls of Ukrainians blind with bloodlust?
No, killing was a necessity, a ritual to cleanse one's soul

Were their nights plagued by dreams?
Dreams of loss and fragility like a broken mirror reflecting Conscience's light

If Nature could speak to them, which flower would it give them?
Hyacinthus made from the innocent blood of civilians

What were the hearts of stone like?
Filled with shards of shadow which ache at every turn

If anything could break the cycle of pain what would?
Their soul.