In fields where flowers once did bloom,
Now shadows cast a solemn gloom,
The whispers of the fallen brave,
Reside within each silent grave.

The skies once blue, now stained with red,
As tears of sorrow gently spread,
The pain of loss, the cries of fear,
Echo in the hearts held dear.

Through smoke and ash, the memories flow,
Of days before the world did know,
The cost of war, the price of hate,
Written in the victims’ fate.

Yet in the darkest chasms deep,
Hope still dares to softly creep,
A dream of peace, a wish for light,
To guide us through this endless night.