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Apparently, they ruled with an iron fist
In the chilling jaws of Terror
Of men intoxicated for the kill
Salivating for blood of kindred
Free for the rape and extortion
In the bastion of Kismayo, Port City of Somalia

The crooked reasons of eating oneself
In a serial bloodbath of a nation
Usurping its nationhood
With straps of IEDs on their back
Women and children convinced duty-bound
To kill themselves for their innocence
And live the glory abound
But never to taste the fruits of their sacrifice

See, what has remained of the Port City
Except for the glaring ruins
Battered to a city of Charcoal Warehouses
For the shanties to scorch in the sun
In a neighbourhood of orphans and widows
And the maimed bearing the signatures!
Oh no! but wait,do you rely on your unborn for a future?

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