Tiny fingers grip an AK.
Fire in eyes,
War in ears.

Four feet tall,
four feet of death and destruction,
Eight years old,
eight years of grief and ruin.

I am but a child,
Bravely pushing the front line
Into a battle without meaning
Never knowing
That I only get
One shot
At life.

I am a soldier.
Lives taken without remorse
Never believing it can get worse
But it can.

Raped in the barracks
Thrust into battle
A never ending cycle
Of pain and no gain.

I am both puppet and veil
For cowardly men
Who would strip me
Of my innocence
And, for what?

Stolen from home and mother
Me and another
Three hundred thousand
Boys and girls.

A village of fire left behind
No teddy bear to cuddle
Only
A cold metal trigger
And death
At the end of the line.