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• Candra Maung, Grade 10
• Poetry
• 2017

She is grace, but laced with venom to kill;
Her scars forgotten, nut not forgiven.
Her ghastly, gravely games greatly fulfilled
By the devils in suits, blindly driven.

She weaves a web from the sins of the man
Luring her prey into their timely death.
In the dreams of the soldiers’ past she stands,
With them through their very last taken breath.

Children of the now are still unaware,
The blood of innocence that stains her skin.
Her name slips off their tongue with little care,
Yet they cry for God when her game begins.

She has no end, no purpose, only fear,
A bloodthirst for violence; our end is near.