This poem goes out to all you promoters of Drones.
I went to school, every single morning,
to learn about the world and grow my soul.
My friend Abdul was always there, we learned together,
and played in sand, in a dustbowl.
Then one morning, in a bright flash of red,
everything vanished, i saw the dead,
as a reaper drone, flown by a baby goat in Texas,
killed Abdul, my Mother, my Father and Me
My nation sanctioned the hit,
and took the blame for our deaths.
They took the truth, thew it into a pit,
and swept it under the rug.
Alas, like water or light under pressure,
as it always is, with time,
the truth burst out,
it couldn’t be contained.
Here was a lot of collateral damage,
and we have politely asked the West not to do it again.
1 was 7
3 were 8,
3 were 9,
1 was 10,
4 were 11,
5 were 12,
8 were 13.
6 were 14,
9 were 15,
19 were 16,
12 were 17,
3 were 18,
3 were 19
and 2 were 21 – years old.