Ghastly Streets of Mogadishu

I overheard a sad song, sang in my mother’s tongue,

Theatre of war, in the streets of loneliness! She said
Where death is the only comrade for the sad,
Where smiles are the shadows and frowns lead,
Where knowledge is grasped through hate, and greed

In these streets, devotion is far ahead,
We tried to pull along side, but failed! She said
And now, we whistle our anthem
As the words are forgotten,

In these dusky streets,
Spirits are abducted, by the devil,
Captured and tortured until they spill,
Now enraged and ill
With animosity, that can only kill,

In these painful streets,
Bits of rocks are stained with blood,
Happy dreams are left to rot,
Bullets are praised, instead of God,
New born, were born for hopes and future
But in these streets, they’re forgot,

See these streets, have death as their mark,
Nothing like Hollywood blvd, where they spark,
Pavements are painted with sad veneer,
Blood as their only ink, brushing the frontier,

In these cruel streets,
Neighbors walk with frowns
As they hold their head down,
While they hear the “Bang Bang” sound,
The only tune, played by this town,”

In these streets,
Mothers are left alone
Children wondering on their own,
While fathers decay in the combat zone,
Out here, cause of death is mostly unknown,
But death is our only homegrown.

*To Be Continued*