They want us to be afraid

They want us to cower 

They want us to hide

They want us to stop learning

They want us to cover up 

Says the King of Terror

 

We will not be afraid 

We will not cower 

We will not hide

We will learn

We will be who we are

 

As the bombs go off

Girls screaming

Giving into the King of Terror 

Running, screaming

Blood

Boom! Crash! 

The ceiling caves in 

Giving into the King of terror

 

They take us away 

Like a lamb to a slaughter

Put us in slavery

Do the unthinkable

Do the unbearable

Take us in

Chew us out

Spit us out scarred for life

But that’s what they want

For us to be afraid

But we shall stand tall

And fight back against the King of Terror

 

 

Mabelle the jolly good child

She dances really crazy and wild

She has a need for perfection

As her collection

Of point shoes are all perfect

Every single one is gold

Never a sight of black or mould!

She takes all the chances,

While she runs around and prances

 

She dances every day

And bobby pins are her bae

Her hair is always done up right 

It’s so, so, so tight

A bow completes the look

She read about it from a dancing book

She dances like a blaze

With an expression like a soft haze

 

Her room is full of trophies and medals

With a little sprinkle of flower petals

Her desk is purple;

And oh look! A popcorn kernel!

She must have been watching some dancing movies last night

As her laptop screen is still very bright!

 

The most important thing for her is to have fun

She smiles and giggles up until the dance is done.

There is one thing I knew before I ever talked to Mabelle

It’s that she went to school at St Peter Chanel.

Love from,
Kathleen

The sound of distant gunfire can be heard.

The concrete walls vibrating like an earthquake

You dare not say a word

For what you are about to discover.

 

Helpless, needy, worried

There is no sign of food

You panic

Then stop.

An explosion right outside the door

You fall onto the concrete floor.

 

This is it, they’ve found you

There is no escape

You realize the bigger picture

Is starting to take shape.

Staring out the window you see a figure in the darkness;

Among the rubble of the concrete houses and debris

Who can it be? 

 

Then your worst fears come true

He yells something in another language

A tank approaches your house along the dirty, dusty road

You try to hide under the stairs but it’s too late

You have met your fate

He walks into the room and sees you

Then he pulls out his gun.

 

Amen.

But the question is, is that really what she feels?

Her mask hides the tears that stream down

Lines on her forehead from her constant frown

No one is aware, and no one will ever be aware

 

She always comes home to a warzone

Her parents screaming while she’s in the corner alone

The scars on her arms from the sharp blade of a knife

A constant reminder of her sadness and her strife

Still, no one is aware, no one is aware

 

Her hair a bird’s nest, her eyes a full lake

Not a single hour of sleep, she lies awake

Into the hallway and then down the stairs

She stumbles, she falls, her family doesn’t care

No one is aware, no one is aware, they shall never be aware

 

She runs into the streets, away from the hell hole

Rows and rows of houses, but not a single soul

She finds a closed store, while she’s on the run

She steals weapons, knives and a gun

No one is aware, no one is aware

 

The hunger in her stomach growled in dismay

She hadn’t eaten anything for the past few days

She always wore baggy clothes to hide her skeleton figure

And nobody knew why, until she pulled the trigger

No one is aware

Until now, everyone is aware.

That never stops

It has ups and downs.

I think to myself that one day

This will all just stop.

 

At school I’m stressed

With work and drama

It never ending tiredness 

When I get home, I’m happy to be back

 

I start my homework 

Listen music

And try to concentrate

But I never do 

 

Early morning wake up 

To finish the rest of my homework

I am like a sleeping lion trying to catch prey. 

 

It’s a school life.