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The Terrorist

The blades of leaves dries up and falls
To feed livestock, I gather the hay
Seen animals die, but I never took a life
Just a farmer, who so loves his farm
Blood on my hand, can’t hurt a fly…

Love and peace, I often preach
Till two bulls rammed each other
Splashing streams and unsettling dust
Thunder stroke, even the earth quaked
My home they had picked, as battlefield

I am not a bull, neither a soldier
But here I stand, with a shotgun
Dewy-eyed, oh yes! I am naive
Staring at titans as they set ablaze
My ponds, my ranch, my barns and my silos

Screaming and pleading, but they thrust-
-Spears and arrows, I manage to dodge
Both end sees me as an opponent
The chase continues for me, the ant
Whose guilt is; building a beautiful hill

Sad to see all my effort collapse
In the hands of two unrelated bulls
If one die, maybe the battle would end
Dared and caught up in the middle of it,
I can’t help myself but pull the trigger.

©2019 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu


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