I’m young
But I’ve chosen the battlefield
Instead of school seat.
For rhetoric has failed to protect us,
Machine gun will whisper deafening words.
I used to stare at
Hungry flies flutter over inert bodies
The nose on top
Beseeching God’s pity.
The mirror of life has carved up
The solstice of my exquisite joy.
Don’t I fear a bloody death?
Do they fear the fetal one?
I shall not come back.
The cistern of my tragedy
Sprinkles burning flames
Of a spoiled child’s dream.
I missed the fetal death
but they won’t miss the ignominious decease.
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