Conscripted Killer-child

Come here little one

From under that acacia

Sure I know that it’s hot

Leave the rifle there.

Leave it.

Appears to be jammed anyway.



How didya get those

Gruesome cut cheeks.

Yeah I know.

But don’t let me frighten you.

I mean no harm.

See these outstretched hands?

See the smile?

When did you last see the likes?



Was it before the night attack

And the terrifying fires

Throughout the village.

Before your mother was strangled

Your brother’s throat slit

Trying to defend.

Protesting Grandpa’s tongue

Cut out? While his feet flailed.



One of the bigger Rebels

Grabbed you by the throat.

Tossed you into his truck.

Smirking as he did so.

Put a heavy rifle

In your hands.

Slapped your face hard.

Gave you a beret to wear.

All eight or nine years of you.

I’ll bet.


In just that fashion

You were made a killer.

And soon a hater.

And a slave.

A slop carrier.

But not any more.



So get in my truck…

Why do you hesitate

I want you to come

To a place of peace.

The orphanage, the playground.

Steady meals.



A whimpering sound?

Concealed. Further over.

Oh, you have a sister.

Come on, you too dear.

Lots of room.

Don’t forget your sandals.