People walk slowly, their backs hunched

Against the cold hard stares of the soldiers.

They carry small bundles, remnants of

Their mean little lives lived in hatred.

A woman watches as her son is cuffed

As he passes by the sneering group

Of men who's only pleasure in this life

Seems to be derived from the pain and

Sorrow they can inflict during the

Continuing bouts of ethnic cleansing.

She watches the set to his shoulders

And knows in her heart, all the dreams

For his future are lost as the cycle of

Hatred continues, neverending.

Her tears fall silently into the dust,

Leaving small glistening jewels

Where hope's greenery may take hold.