A little girl sitting alone in a tragic weather
By the roadside culvert, smashed a while ago
Anxious look permeates her sweet bloody face
She wants God to patch her mother back.
She, the daughter of a suicide bomber
A martyr in the words of the supporting few
The mother had lived her life fighting
For a cause, genuinely legitimate to her.
With looks of fear and dead anguish
The scars on the face began to tell her woes
Of a painful saga inflicted on the young one
Because she witnessed the whole, become pieces.
She cries, gently wiping her face
With the rag she holds dearly upon
A piece from her mother’s last worn dress
Before her mum, burst unto pieces unknown.
The mother is dead leaving the girl alone
By the roadside, she still awaits her mother’s hug
Whilst the trickling tears wasting the bodily liquid
The little girl suffers the greatest pain today.
The war between the titans born of devils
Have left the girl together with roadside gravels
Nowhere to go, and no place to call home
And, the worst has happened, a mother is gone.
A tale of a suicide bomber is hard and tough
None can match the spirit enshrined within
That the life as a token given for shadowy reason
The end anticipated, but the pain we don’t know.
The little girl emotionally explodes within
Layer by layer her pain began to swirl
Tough indeed her life will be without a mother
And, can we say her mother is last of its kind?
Possibly the daughter holds the same mind,
soon to become.
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