Sights at a playground

I see,
children engaging in a game of tug-of-war,
which turns a little too violent.

I see,
people engaging in lively banter,
of which words turned into knives,
and smiles into fists.
piercing through flesh,
without regard for the heart.

I see,
parents playing with their kids,
blissful and contented (is it?).

then turning away, victimised.
by the ghosts of doubt and jealousy
plaguing those bonded by a sacred oath.

Dusk decends,
birds return to their nests,
but these people stay,
they have nowhere to go.

their homes,
raided, bombed, destroyed,
by their own bloodied hands.

where is home now? (CRIES OUT LOUD)

Happiness in numbers.

one house,
two occupants,
three meals,
four seasons,
five children (if you don't mind the noise),
six fruit trees (one of each fruit),
seven o'clock dinners.

and thus the heart sighs in content.