A/N: This poem was inspired by a scene from the movie Mulan. See the image above. ^

Instead of the usual hubbub of townspeople bustling back and forth, greeting each other with smiles and friendly waves, it is only a thick, yet empty silence that fills the small village.

Instead of the gleeful children tumbling about, their sweet laughter ringing in the air, only the occasional mangy dog wanders the streets.

Instead of swinging to and fro, its cheerful toll resounding, the old bell, cracked and rusted, sits forlornly up in the crumbling churchtower, hanging by a single fraying rope.

Even the houses are utterly decimated, with shattered windows and walls full of gaping holes; meanwhile, a single lonely doll in a tattered dress lies abandoned on the ground, a doll whose owner shall never return.

This is what comes of hatred and violence. This is what comes of war.