Uncertain times (sonnet)

The smell of milk which spills from troubled hands
brings floods of tears to eyes that shouldn’t weep.
The air we breathe is flawed with spiked demands;
that leaves us with their stench of flawed belief.
How can we see within; that’s not in sight,
where voices lead the blind in times of war.
We read between the lines in black and white,
but such as truth is kept behind closed doors.
Are we the victims of their blundered ways?
where blood is shed and spilled instead of milk,
we can but hope we rise above the waves
and those who lie shall drown in floods of guilt.

We can but only stand the tests of time
and hope this is not of a man-made crime