Before my eyes they killed my mother and my father
The stones tore my feet as I ran
And walk on
If I stop, they will find me
I have no food, no home, no hope
Day after day guns whistle over my head
People fall all around me
I squat in the darkness and I pray
Survival means running
Hiding, trembling, weeping, waiting
I long for peace.
The killers make me one of them
They make me slaughter those
Who in happier days I played with in the streets
I am haunted by the things I have become
I am tormented.
They mark my body with knives
They strike me with their weapons
They have taken from me my childhood
And though I breathe, every day I die
I have no voice.