Child Soldier

Yesterday, I saw my buddy, he was with his daddy On their yard, together happily playing, the rugby While I stood near at the iron gate, I heard his father Telling him, of his love and belief, that he should gather My admiration goes for his father, in him, he’s laid Brave boys, don’t cry, it is only a girlish thing, he said I envy my friend of his time with his father, they talked And having great time, of being together, so I walked Out, from the scene, without disturbing their family time While inside me, hate’s mustering, for my own has no rhyme Today, when I saw my friend, like dried meat, in his coffin I thought his father have lived with conscience, for his own teen My old buddy had an intriguing hole, on his forehead He was only 12 years old, and now, tears for him I shed