Written by: Norman Purvis

Arms raised high.
Fists  tight,  to the sky.
Head thrust back, teeth clenched.
The rain pouring down, overhead.
The lightening flashes, thunder crashes.
Tears washed away, by deluge and spray.

I am bruised and bleeding everywhere.
Eyes bloodshot, a fixed stare.
I shout out loud.
No one listens to my cry.

Is this the end, of all my dreams?
Love and hope, finished it seems.
I was promised happiness, if I was good.
This promise has not stood.
The Devil has his way.
Pain, and death, have there  sway.

I have been beaten, tortured and shot.
Humanity they had not.
The wrong place I came.
So was ready game.
In Baghdad, this is the way.
They treat you today.