the man hands me my fate,
a steal monster that spits death,
golden lead by golden lead.
he says "aim and pull."
... at who? why?
last week i was playing
in the town center
with a smile on my face.
there are no smiles here.
i have nowhere to run;
home is ash.
if i am on this side,
who is on the other?
dad says i must be strong;
dad said i must be strong.
how could i be strong
when i can barely hold
destruction when it isn't
bursting by the second,
let alone when it rips fire
through the dreams of children?
this is a man's war,
but children are fighting it.
after we are gone,
who is left to fight?
what is there left to fight for?
why am i holding this steal monster
in my shivering palms?
i am just a child.
kill or die.
i am just a child.