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I wake up
To the rising sun
The birds chirping
And the water flowing in the river, in this valley
In Uganda, my home.
My father comes into my room
About to leave for work
And says
“I can be home early today, son.”
“Please father? Can you?”
He packs up his trousers and briefcase, and steps out side, to his car.
I feel the strange feeling of dread spread though myself.
I open my mouth, to tell him to come back
Something stops me
The day is long, waiting for my father to come home.
I lie on my bed, with my face to the ceiling
And count the dots on the walls of our plaster home.
One
Two
Three
Four
Then, a harsh and abrupt knocking sound fills the room.
I see a tall dark figure through the screen door
I expect it to be my father, but it is too tall.
I creep over to the front door
My hands in fists
Ready to fight
I pull open the screen door and see, my father, being clutched by his neck
by a man in army clothes.
The look on my father’s face is heartbreaking.
His eyes could make a bright and energetic puppy sad.
The soldier grabs my arm and drags me outside.
His grip, a cold piece of metal around my frail, ten year old arm
As he throws us over to the corner,
I silently whisper to my father
“will he kill us?”
He pauses
And
Slowly
Nods his head.
Tears well up in my eyes, and I fall to the ground
Then, the soldier grabs my father, and throws him on the ground.
His fist balls up, and he punches him
Continuously
I gather up all of my bravery, and scream
STO-
Then, another soldier comes up behind me, and forces me to watch him being murdered.
Each punch breaks my heart
Then, as he is about to finish him off, he passes his gun
To
Me
‘Just do it”
“he’s in pain”
“He wants you to”
I grasp the trigger, and squeeze the trigger.
There is a loud boom, and then silence.
I fall on the ground and realize what I just did.
My life is over now too.
The soldier passes me a brochure.
Through my weeping eyes, I realize that they want me to be a soldier, too
I turn to the soldier, and nod my head.
He pushes me into a tall, olive green jeep
And puts a bag on my head
I try to ask where I am going,
But every time I open my mouth,
I taste, cold, rough, linen fibers.
After about an hour of captivity in a jeep,
I am pushed out of the jeep, and see many kids
They are running
Running with guns
“I don’t want to be like this” I think.
I turn my head to the horizon where my home was,
And run.
- by bobbingbob11 |
- Poetry And Lyrics
- | Submitted on 04/09/2009 |
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- Title: [Untitled]
- Artist: bobbingbob11
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Description:
This is a poem about the child soldiers in Uganda.
I wrote it in Journalism. Hope you like it!
For more info about child soldiers, visit http://kabiza.com/Lira-Children-Kony-Rebels.htm
Thanks!
I know its long! :) - Date: 04/09/2009
- Tags: untitled poem soldier uganda childsoldiers
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Comments (5 Comments)
- just your typical creeper - 11/22/2009
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Oh my god, that made me cry.
Wonderful, truly wonderful.
5/5 - Report As Spam
- bobbingbob11 - 09/12/2009
- that happens in real life. it has happened to over one million people since 1997. he actually has great chances, because the guards are too lazy, and they can just go catch someone else.
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- kearney11 - 08/19/2009
- gosh... touching... very upsetting. i dont think its that long? ishould probably enter one of my poems aswell... whats the chances of the poor guy getting home without getting shot? sad 5/5 defo
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- Clairity214 - 04/17/2009
- wow! great poem, but now i'm ready to cry
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- xXsecret_artistXx - 04/09/2009
- So sad. I watched that on some learning channel. Great poem, it actually tells what really happens to some of those poor kids. Although not that many escape...
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