I saw him lying dead,
He was shot in the head,
“What did he do?” I said,
“ He went to buy some bread.”
He was thin, pale and cold
And he was ten years old,
He had to be so bold
To do as he was told.
Nine mouths lived in one room
Too crowded for a broom,
Since they all lived in gloom
They never thought of doom.
He dreamt of going out,
For he was locked and shut
Inside a stiffling hut
Which was so dim and hot.
The siege sometimes could be
For two months, perhaps three,
So to buy bread and tea
Once in a while they’re free.
They live on both mostly
Though they are damn costly.
If they’re treated justly,
Who gives a damn firstly?
Destruction everywhere,
There’s nothing clean to wear
And no water to bear,
Yet no one seems to care.
You always hear a knell,
Or the tolls of a bell,
Who’s killed no one can tell
For here’s a living hell.
It can be anyone
No matter what he’s done.
He might be killed for fun
By some one with a gun.
If fear isn’t suppressed,
A trigger may be pressed.
Crimes nobody witnessed
Are in no way confessed.
A jail inside a jail
And they accept no bail.
The pure are those who fail,
So peace is weak and frail.
If bars do block the heart,
One cannot have a start.
Why can’t we make a dart?
What holds us back in fact?
The kid was lying down
And he was about to drown,
His hair curly and brown
Put on a reddish crown.
His yearning was so great,
He wished to pass the gate,
The bread was just the bait,
Or was he the bait by fate?
For months he had no schol,
And that wasn’t so cool,
At home the only tool
He played with was a stool.
He placed it by the wall
And peeped out through a hole.
A monster past night fall
Used to appall them all.
A dreadful, deadly beast
Which lives on human feast,
Its roar, to say the least,
Is heard throughout the east.
It destroys far and wide,
In killing it takes pride,
It crawls from side to side,
And there’s nowhere to hide.
Yet the kid didn’t care,
He didn’t fear to stare,
Sometimes he’d even dare
Crawl to the open air.
He was free, fast and fine
Whom no one could confine,
Being the last of nine
His wish they’d not decline.
So when bread was needed,
To leave they all dreaded,
The kid who hard pleaded
Wasn’t at all heeded.
At last he was granted
The chance he long wanted,
His mother who started
To weepalmosst fainted.
To leave he was bidden,
Though it was forbidden,
He thought he was hidden,
But soon he was smitten.
A rifle’s eye roving
Around the clock moving
Spotted him while leaving
And playfully waving.
The orders were so clear
To soldiers far nad near,
“Their lives or yours, dear,
So shoot without fear.”
How did the killer feel?
Was it easy to heal?
Was it a healthy deal
Or was it an ordeal.
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