The Guns go off

Does no one hear my cry?

Does no one care that I might die?

Out here in these harsh lands,

It's hard to do what life demands.

Why are you so blind?

Open your eyes and you'll see what you'll find.

You've got houses made of bricks, and flowers in bud,

It seems unimaginable to me in my house of mud.

You hear the bees buzz, and you see the sun shine,

While I sit huddled in a corner, I count nothing mine.

You've got clothes on your back and food in your belly,

While I'm lucky to wear these rags and embarrassed for anyone to see.

I hear the guns go,

And I give way to my woe.

Wondering who'll come out alive,

And sorry for those who won't arrive.

I count each day as my last,

With no thoughts dwelling on the past.

I think of no future,

'Cos that would be torture.

I live for the here and now,

Thoughts of happiness and a future my mind does not allow.

Don't turn a blind eye,

As if we're dirty as pigs in a sty.

We're each so unique,

Though are prospects are bleak.

You must think we're as common as dirt,

Because we've lived like this forever, that we don't hurt.

Why won't you listen to me and the others?

The poor mothers and daughters, the slaughtered fathers and my brothers.

Don't you think the way we are treated is inhumane?

Our enemies do not know about warfare, they are insane.

So I sit in this corner, to God I pray,

That through his help and mercy, I'll find a way.