When oppression meets the persecuted.
To Witness the death of family,
Its distanced my head from apathy,
Innocence has left quite gallantly,
Inhibited from meth and tragedy,
I've written this text for sanity.
A casual day at the farm, no sign of oppression,
Until a father screams, "raise the alarm", with quite an expression,
A hoard of rebels, racing with arms, with might and aggression.
This father pulls me abruptly. He's praising allah, "please guide us, protection!"
We're deep in the fields, hidden from sight,
The corn is dense, i'm weepin, and still sickened from vice,
Until i hear the Jeep, screeching with will, "Killem and slice",
They capture us, keepin us still, prisoned alive.
Bags place over our heads, the darkness is the emulating theme,
When they remove my bag, they told us we're dead, unless i "Regulate the scene"
So I'm given a gun.
A man is before me.
"You must kill this person!", they say, He's vision is done!
So they stand and ensure me,
You'll be free if you kill him, my son.
My hesitation is evident, so they turn to coercion,
They get impatient with etiquette, so there's an urge of convergence.
There's a barrel pointed at my temple,
The feelings of emptiness are now voices of a devil.
I pull the trigger ....
They pull back the cover. I think my heart might tear,
Why is..why can't..why there??
The victim, My Kid, my son, my air
It was then i saw another youngling, it's clear he's bluff.
Cos as he's holding the AK, he's tearing up..