A Petrarchan Sonnet

Men! Slaughtered and left like headless chickens. 

Children! Young! Butchering whole families. 

Mankind! Filled with hate, inhumanities, 

Pain, sorrow, they all hurt like the dickens. 

My heart races as the quill’s pace quickens 

And the blurred lines of Nationalities, 

Towering numbers of fatalities, 

Splintered souls, fleeting sanity sickens 

And change! Yes...Change! Stop attacking persons 

And begin punishing the medium 

Make them examples, teach them their lessons 

You do not keep them in a “stadium” 

Go proclaim to the civilizations: 

Humani nihil a me alienum