Nap time/War time

Sadness runs down the cheeks of children,

They wait for their parents to whisper the medicine into their ear.

Like a tourniquet for a wounded soldier, this keeps the child going

 

The shrapnel of a broken heart seems too much for a child to bear

The nurture of friends is their canteen. A lifeline,

a steady stream of hope in an otherwise fruitless desert.

 

The enemy is much more intimidating when you are fighting everyone

As the gunner takes his position, your best friend.

They will keep you alive. With your best interest in mind they pull the trigger.

 

The desert is a lonely place for a child.

For a soldier with no cloth to stop the bleeding

With a canteen spilling their hopes and dreams

And a gunner nowhere to be found