May I make a full confession
to something of great obsession.
I ran over, my chest a-blazing
coming across a beautiful, amazing
Dewey-eyed face; staring blankly
making me feel so truly, frankly
ripped apart and violated
so much so I almost fainted
flat on my back sprawled eagle.
That girl she almost looked regal
her face so pale and unassuming
as I took the gun assuming
she would stop and take a look
at my face before I took
her life in my own hands.
I cannot lie I cannot stand
to look on her face no more
feeling so filthy and so sore.
Inside my guts shook and trembled
that poor girl she was disassembled
But from afar i saw an adult
if only i did, i would exult.
On her body strapped so tight
was a package small and light.
In a war you do not consider
what it is when you pull the trigger;
as i knelt down to take a look
realised it was just a book
wrapped up with twine as if a gift.
I took her life oh so swift.
Now i spend my days wondering,
crying, sprawling and blundering:
what if her mother was not so proud
and did not strap, that book but vowed
to say hello the following day
when war was over, i always pray
the small girl is in heaven today
but i will certainly go to hell
I hear right now that atrocious death bell
tolling, tolling evermore
i hope to die in my own personal war.
Written by [
Olwen]
