Freedom

We thought they’d know why.

Why we rose from rubble.

Why we did try.

Though from grace we did tumble.

Fighting for what you have.

Freedom.

Little sister never had the food to eat.

Mother grew weaker by the day.

Father had long since sold his seat.

My brother had gone astray.

They were never heard of again;

At least now they can’t feel this strain.

Alone at fourteen;

Too old for my youth;

On my forehead a newly permanent sheen.

How could I figure out my own truth?

For years, peace had failed…

Yes, I feared that had sailed…

Fighting every day.

Fighting for once, for things to be okay.

Of course, there was the opposite effect.

‘Terrorist’ was the word on many lips.

Few blamed us for neglect.

Over that—- the Media skips.

Nobody heard the rumbling of tummies

Or the cries of children who’d lost their mummies.

Was this neccessary? I thought.

Physically, mentally, I fought.

But for what?

Freedom?

Was Freedom my reason?

But… Wasn’t it theirs too?

I searched for morals behind either treason.

My confliction, again, proved true.

Good, bad, which was which?

If I pulled the trigger, there was never an itch.

Little sister, forgive me.

Mother, please understand.

‘A killing spree’

I never wanted this button in my hand.

‘I’m sorry’ I decided, as I made that final stand.

I hope…

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