Opinion - There is a hardness

There is a hardness

There is a hardness,

in the heart of Man

like something cruel, overran

the gentler instinct, protector urge

that I so wish, would reemerge.

I'm baffled how you can peruse

the young faces in this gentle muse

not wonder how they passed away

did they survive, war's ricochet?

Were they bombed, and burnt to hell

phosphor targets, basement cell?

Were they raped, their breasts grabbed

as Ilya Ehrenburg, wanted them, stabbed?

Did they end their innocent lives

at the end of laughing knives?

In this world, their final sight

demonic hatred, shining bright?

So many Boomers, to this day

cold as ice, walk away.

"We wuz the good guys

we're glad they're dead

nothing more, to be said."

F.M.