As the days roll by,
each second to me counts,
each day I cherish as years.
Without certainty, I hate life with disgust.
From camp I write,
I lay beneath my rumbled shelter
guarded all around, like a VIP.
All the same, cockroaches and grasshoppers I host by day,
mosquito and cricket music sends my eyes to sleep.
The wars are bitter.
The city is negatively re-arranged,
the family is displaced,
and uncertainty is their hope of being alive.
The teenage army I'm forced to join,
a small soldier I am.
I dream with wide open eyes,
'cause they've told me of death, so soon.
I have killed and rendered redundant,
each moment of my walk outs,
tears and horrors worry my thoughts into weariness.
My grave's I'm sure deeper than 7ft,
but for the cease-fires which strengthen my soul,
the future's bleak.
Nairobi and Pretoria, is a dream I wish was real,
to save me from the bullets,
to wake me from my death.
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