Shattered

Little child with the big, big gun

Do you know how to use it?

Have you seen what it can do, to

You, to others? Tear them into

Pieces, with just one pull of your

Finger on the trigger?

Little child with the big, big gun

Does it write? Does it read?

Does it tell you stories as you

Sleep? Cocooned in your little world all

Alone on the cold hard earth you call

A bed, in a room full of people, too

Small to move, with men cocking

Guns, to lull you to sleep?

Little child with the small, small hands

Do they ache as you carry that load of steel?

Strutting around on tiny feet too feeble

To carry even your own body weight. With

Bullets strung like garlands round

Your little tired neck. Do you hurt, do

You weep?

Little child with the small, small hands

Do you yearn to hug something they call a toy?

Or is the gun all that for you, parent,

Guardian, friend and toy, taught by your

Masters. The lessons of love – hate is the most

Wonderful feeling in life, learn it and

You’ll never go down.

Little child with the sad, sad eyes

Do you yearn for your life that you lost?

Or have they told you that this was what

You were born for. To fight in line

To save another man’s life. While he,

Coward that he is, lives guarded in luxury

Enjoying all and more, and everything

You too should have. But don’t.

Little child with the sad, sad eyes

Do tear drops ever leave your eyes?

Have you felt the warmth of tears on your

Cheek, tasted the salt of tears on your

Tongue, rejoiced in the release of what

Tears can do, soften your sadness, raise your

Hopes, take you to another world, show you

Another life, give you another

Chance – At being a child?

Little child with the lifeless form

Do you feel peace at last?

Sprawled on the ground, all by your self, deserted

By your friends, hugging a big gun, dreaming of fairies

And gnomes and the good people you never

Knew? While in another village, another little

Child is groomed to take your place.