The children graze upon the plains of sorrow. Their dreams lulling them to sleep each night. They dream of beauty and life, yet each morning they return to the field. The dreams will never come true. The monotony persists through the most striking sunrises and sunsets. The moon mocks us. We are nothing but the shadows of pawns that fight for silence. We are two-dimensional and unable to truly get on our knees and feel the pain of war. The suffering is unbearable for there is none. There is nothing. I want to feel something. Feel something with someone. The beautiful details of life grow unnoticed. I want to hold their hand and open my eyes. I want to open my heart. The sun will feel good again; watching it rise and set. The grazing will cease. The children will run free.