Gun pressed against the child’s head,
Ain’t it so sad that it came to this,
All that ignorance for bliss
And now things have come to this
Finger on the trigger its getting late
Everyone’s praying he’ll hesitate
All that misery all that grief
And this is what it comes down too
Come home little child
Your mothers grieving
It ain’t your war to fight
Forget your fear and find the light
The hammer slams down
And time stands still
As a single bullet fly’s
And a mother closes her stricken eyes
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Ugh... That one was a tear provoker. Good write.