The hardest thing to do is to be at ease.

To see the horrors of this world and be at peace

To drink your coffee as civilians lie dead,

To stir in sugar while the sky is painted red.

To think, how lucky you were to be born right here,

Not in some broken piece of armoured landing gear

And is it hard to go to sleep?

Do you hear a sound when thousands weep?

Don’t you see the unmarked graves?

A thousand people sold as slaves