What if?

War is like a fire in the midst of an unsuspecting neighborhood,

All is peaceful until the match strikes and sets lives ablaze.

The ashes that we created to look like snow

blanket the ground and cover any trace of the aftermath

If only the bullets we have shot could be unshot

The words we've said unspoken

And the silent tears finally be heard.

Then the fires we have created could be extinguished.

Only until then will we be able to look in the mirror; satisfied

With the reflection staring back at us.