When Hope is Just a Metaphor

A poem from a point of a person who is stranded is a war torn nation

Looking to the skies for a savior is disguise,
Waiting for sunrise to relief from the cries,
Tomorrow is a gift, or really is it?
Nothing is left to look forward from it.

Laughter is a luxury,
Cant afford without misery,
Songs and lullabies have since been replaced,
By thunders and lightnings from the marching parade.

What was once a treet to the eyes,
Has now become a sight to despise,
Children playing with the spoils left behind,
Unfortunate ones would step on a mine.

Rivers and streams shimmer in red,
Remnants of the dead scattered by its bed,
In denial they were untill in was too late,
The color of blood does not discriminate.

Thinking of loved ones accross the border,
Hope to meet them when its all over,
But what is there to live for?
When hope is just a metaphor...