Diary of a child

Playing war, playing guns Now it's all reality Never heard, never worked All the wounds are now deadly On the street With heartbeat That is almost fading Orders come Words are gone And we start Marching None of us thought This is real war Yet we are here They made us play All my friends Never guessed Laying on the bed now Medic comes Make us gone Pulls the sheet top of him Doesn't move Doesn't cry Doesn't ask for his mom No more All this place I know well Now looks foreign I grew up It's my home And now it's my coffin