In those years, the only exchange was that of ruthless
Gunfire. Some fell in the lanes and alleys
Others cried aloud. In every corner of the compass one met
the sight
Of slaughtered cattle, heard the screech of night owls rend
the sight
In those years, tears were not allowed
Only the terror of wrongful incarceration
Of families wrenched apart
Of homes and gardens becoming execution grounds
No one could wait for the fields of rice to ripen
So many men were put in irons
Fathers could not be fathers, sons could not be sons
But were reduced to playthings of history
In those years, there was only gunfire
Power and honor
And every dying father’s wish was that his children
Would never come of age
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