war breeds war

War breeds war. no war ends. the heart wrenching blood scents don't wash away.

You cannot wipe the stains of the fresh blood on concrete roads, on cement roofs, on the spinach leaves or on the keyboards of a computer. You cannot cover up the blood gushing out of the white lotuses of your pond that resembled the fifteen year old kid or the young man who gracefully smiled with open embrace , even when there were rifles in front of him. You cannot hear the line or read a line related to the martyr as before. The pen of a mother who wrote about her deceased beautiful son on the white papers, you cannot suppress that with the bayonet of your rifles.

Can you forget the smile of a seventeen years old who only wanted to live a life where everyone remembers him. You cannot. You would stand on the railing of rooftop of your house, to enjoy the mild misty azure and the twinkles of starry nights; but can you really do that anymore when you open your social media and see a six year old kid had been shot on the head from a governed helicopter cause she went to play on the rooftop at the afternoon? How can you stop your heart from wrenching inhumanly when you see a sixteen year old kid was killed by police force cause he helped an injured protestor admit into the hospital?

I know you cannot. Neither me or a simple human who have humanity inside them. I have seen people changing in a heartbeat when it came to face against the dictator. Again, I have seen a whole generation leaving technologies to join the ongoing protest. I have seen a twin to live as a curse for a parents couple when their other child died on the protest. I have seen teenage students getting arrested and taking for a long time remands, dragging them to court instead of dragging to school. I have seen another country gradually becoming as second north Korea. I have seen the red roses getting die with just a bullet breeze. I am seeing. And I wonder the frustration, sadness, anger and helplessness of the roses would really turn into the thorns and plucked onto the skin of dictatorship, will the war between fair and unfair, justice and injustice would stop?

I wonder, if there is any miracle works which actually makes the wars stopped. I wonder if the win of the truth and right exists or not. Then I hear the faint whisper of the martyrs, "Don't op it. Don't stop until you get "Justice". And I realize, the war is far away from being end. It will grow up on the fresh crimson fluid of humans. Of weaks, of students, of childrens, of women. And I realize, the war breeds war. And it sleeps within our veins , our ribcages and our hearts. They just wake up in our besaless time. And they wake up again, as the red roses who was colored by the blood of weaks.

You can not stop the war. You cannot. Cause, the Universe does not to be owed. The blood stains don't go away and the air never forgets. . 

Author's little note:

The deaths upon mentioned here are truest story that is happening in a green country, at the name of dictatorship and quota movement.

Gratitude:

Thank you so much for reading this. Especially who stopped by and payed attention to every death mentions here and have acknowledged the situation, understanding the importance of international support.