War child.

War child , she was merely just a kid with a heart  of steel when the people lost their livelihood whilst she kept it real, saw soldiers die on the streets with a blade scar across their lip and their brains and hearts dangling across their sleeves.At just 9yrs old her father asked her if she wanted to see,what it felt like to lose everything that you meet, she said father no don't be a fool like those soldiers on the street , who fight for their country not knowing the truth about what's causes the political peak.And sometimes she cries because she knows that it's no use.Its not gonna bring daddy back from the disturbance of this countries roots, roots is what it all was , what family had the best of riches , treated their daughters like bitches worse than the times they sold and buried their daughters and pitched forked their ditches, is that what this is?, a game of the distorted minds and illest.Whose best among the men that treated their sons better than they did?, dismay that's what it was and try not to forget that we came from a woman so why do we hate our women? And try and change our women? , war child witnessed her mama getting raped, stood in the field of grass and cried knowing that it was too late, grew up and knew that this reality was more than just her fate, packed her bags and kisses in between where her mum hit the blade.And told her to never forget where she will stand on the day, that this war child won't ever feel pain,she passes streets causing a scene from the press,that want to feed their papers than the actual people who are oppressed.Oppressed from the wealth they had none of, oppressed from their mum and fathers love,oppressed from their education and hunger.None of ya will look at a commercial and pay what you got on ya.Is that what's wrong or what's right?,you complain about the simplest things in life,when a war child is wondering on the streets of Mumbai and you're sitting on your couch watching the sun down.When will we stand up as a nation and make a change, suck up the hate and spread our wings with love rather than this awful hatred.So listen here when I tell you that this child has no luck but you can be that person that can change the density of their holed up wet socks.Put in an earplug in their sandy kissed ears and touch their hearts with stories of the ones who have powerful thoughts and led people to victory, tell them they don't have to listen to the melody of the guns made by their peers,that carry glocks on their chest of their way of life then disappear.Be the one that doesn't turn a blind eye yet complains about the suffering in those third world countries when you could have paid money to help develop a life of feeling safe and sound without the guns drumbeat.

Poetry Slam: 
Guide that inspired this poem: 

Comments

xubaire

Very spoken word, love it! 

Poeticnomad

tenk yewwww hahah !

sudxnipoet

Loving it. Made an account just so I can read your peoms :p

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741