The screams of bullets pierce the sky,
As sounds of suffering resound across the night.
The little boy with the gun wondering "Why?"
Stands in the middle of this agonizing sight.
He is only eight years old,
And yet he has seen more pain
Than the old man sitting outside his shack in the cold.
Freedom is the only thing he wishes to attain.
His heart slowly grows hard.
Kindness and happiness no longer prevail.
He has gone from a farmer's son to a bloodthirsty guard.
The last memory he has of his family is his mother's trembling wail.
This little boy has become a vicious killer,
Someone molded by war,
A child twisted by anger.
The angels cry as they watch him from afar.
He longs for a better life,
This little boy dreams of a world without strife.
Will you be his saviour?