In Aleppo
The Last Clown dies.
A child cries.
A city dies.
We hear leaders’ sighs
And their failed tries.
When will they realise
That a city isn’t a prize?
Are we all so unwise
That we watch a city’s demise
While listening to lies
Without shock or surprise?
And yet, in Aleppo,
Through azure skies,
A lone bomb flies.
And … the Last Clown dies.
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