My lashes are falling into the sea of my windbreaks

As if I write the words Are there any unwritten words that I haven’t written? How many times bombs have been thrown The hands and the faces of the children are blood Their future is throw in the streets by the powers and crushed Best flowers grows in the mountains The eaters are entering the countries with their armies The letters are written on yahoos and hotmail’s How would so much dirt be cleansed? For which domestication can I be wild? My lashes are falling into the sea of my windbreaks We became ashamed of the children and the stars! ©Günsel Djemal 12.09.2011