The second year of occupation was underway,
the volleys were unbearable
the hiss then BAM!
shook the indescribible.
Most kids my age didn't survive
As the ramparts they held on high
American uniforms swarmed all around
No man could anymore claim any ground
Most families had split or simply been killed
the rest of us here, sure to rot, as long as that's God's will.
And who is to say what is right?
The older boys shoot at the soldiers, learning how to fight
And wise men I've known since I was a babe,
let curses and wicked spells fall upon the invader's braves.
Many are starving, most without home,
They say Americans will bring jobs,
With all this killing,
I don't know.
And who is to blame for all this injustice and untimely death?
And who will be left to wonder
Who could survive this horrible fight?
I know the Taliban were bad,
Insidious and vengeful in all ways
but the Afghan American emissaries
seem just as split from day.
Alas, a normal life I want to have
go to school, see friends,
live life like it ought to be had.
Crimea, the Prize as Always
7 months ago