The end is near, I think.
I feel it with every passing minute.
As airplanes fly back and forth over my head,
I'm thinking maybe this is the last time
I'm staring at the sky we all share.
These days I'm wondering if I die
Because of a bomb dropped over our house, What will happen to my poetry
And the novels I was so excited to
Publish and share with you
Under a cherry blossom tree?

I don't want my stories to be left unfinished,
Some of my poems stay in my drafts untouched.
I want to finish reading every book I've ever started,
And finally send that letter I wrote and edited almost a million times before. 
I want everyone to know
I'll never stop writing willingly,
And if it weren't because of the ongoing war,
I'd never think about quitting it.

So, I've decided:
I'm going to write as often as I can.
I'm going to try to finish every story
Until I take my last breath.
And when I die or don't find the means or strength to take my pen again,
I won't have any regrets about the unfinished pieces I've left after my death. 
Because that's what war does –
If one is lucky enough to survive,
It breaks a person so bad,
They'll never be able to recover.

I hope wars don't happen to you
And the ones you cherish most, too,
Because when wars start
Your life becomes full of fear and broken hearts.
And if it's not trendy enough
The world doesn't give a crap,
So don't count on that.
Come to think of it,
Aren't selective humanism and hypocrisy
The root of everything nasty?

I wish everyone can live a happy life
And not start wars out of boredom, greed or hate,
Because when wars start
The leaders have no problem with overcoming that.
It's the simple people that are left behind
To gather the broken pieces of their own hearts
And make it beat again with the same amount of life.