They were totally unarmed
Victims of the bullet
Murdered by the gun
Mowed down
Just like
Blades of grass
Families moan
And they groan
Another loved one gone
Murdered by the gun
If you
Pull the trigger
You'll see their faces
Every time you look at yourself
In the looking glass
The victims
Mowed down just like
Blades of grass
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem