Dear Mr Terrorist,
If it’s okay for me to call you that, or do you maybe prefer the term suicidal, extremist, perhaps a radical?
There’s an abundance of questions overwhelming my mind and since I got this opportunity, who better could I ask than you?
So Mr Terrorist, may I ask you,
do you remember every little feature drawn onto every little face you have executed?
May I ask you, can you reminisce every little guy for who you have decided that they should be snatched out of the lives of their loved ones, to tear them from the hearts of their parents and to divide them from the soil they last saw. The same soil that is crying for a scent of the children, weeping for their footsteps, one last time.
Dear Mr Terrorist, may I ask you
was it a thought- through strategy
or a blind action without studying the possible tragedy?
Dear Mr Terrorist, may I ask you
was your heart filled with an amount of hate so poisonous that had to be unfold,
was it your senseless brain that tricked you into it,
or perchance your soul so bitter and cold?
Dear Mr Terrorist, may I ask you
have you once been a little child,
one of these little boys,
whose thoughts were clouded only by the worries of the game,
or did your childhood mess you up so badly,
turning you into the demon you now became
Dear Mr Terrorist, may I ask you
can you still remember what it meant and felt to be alive too?
---
Mr Terrorist, may I ask you
did you look at me, before you decided to make me exit this life forever?
did you notice me, before you decided to ****** every dream I had?
did you observe the way every bone in my body was cheering,
the way all of our eyes were smiling at that trophy?
Mr Terrorist, may I ask you
Today, when you marched into the stadium,
when the smell of grass triggered your senses,
when little sand grains were felt between your toes,
when the sweat was soaking each part of your existing body,
and when we shared that very little moment of eye contact,
before they would forever close,
may I ask you,
did you know?
Terrorist, did you know?
did you know that this very moment
that this point of our lives
that this exact time
these seconds
would be our very last?
Dear Mr Terrorist,
in all truth, I don’t care about the answers you may give me
and in all truth, you don’t deserve the words dear or mister thrown at you
in all truth, terrorist, I just wonder.
I wonder if you can see me, right now, as I am drowned in a sea consisting of my blood only.
I wonder if you can see my dear father and my loving mother who are about to hear the most horrific news they ever heard. I wonder if you can see my brother waiting for me, probably wondering where I am by now. I wonder if you can see the moment when they realise what you yourself have created. I wonder if you can see my mother mourning over every little piece left of my body while feeling like the ground beneath her has escaped. I wonder if you can see my father not capable to believe, holding firmly each one of our memories while feeling his heart and soul leave.
I wonder if you can see what you have done,
by tearing me out of this world, terrorist,
and me, out of so many, my soul is just one.
Jun 21, 2018
Jun 21, 2018 at 6:04 AM UTC
Dear Mr Terrorist,
If it’s okay for me to call you that, or do you maybe prefer the term suicidal, extremist, perhaps a radical?
There’s an abundance of questions overwhelming my mind and since I got this opportunity, who better could I ask than you?
So Mr Terrorist, may I ask you,
do you remember every little feature drawn onto every little face you have executed?
May I ask you, can you reminisce every little guy for who you have decided that they should be snatched out of the lives of their loved ones, to tear them from the hearts of their parents and to divide them from the soil they last saw. The same soil that is crying for a scent of the children, weeping for their footsteps, one last time.
Dear Mr Terrorist, may I ask you
was it a thought- through strategy
or a blind action without studying the possible tragedy?
Dear Mr Terrorist, may I ask you
was your heart filled with an amount of hate so poisonous that had to be unfold,
was it your senseless brain that tricked you into it,
or perchance your soul so bitter and cold?
Dear Mr Terrorist, may I ask you
have you once been a little child,
one of these little boys,
whose thoughts were clouded only by the worries of the game,
or did your childhood mess you up so badly,
turning you into the demon you now became
Dear Mr Terrorist, may I ask you
can you still remember what it meant and felt to be alive too?
---
Mr Terrorist, may I ask you
did you look at me, before you decided to make me exit this life forever?
did you notice me, before you decided to ****** every dream I had?
did you observe the way every bone in my body was cheering,
the way all of our eyes were smiling at that trophy?
Mr Terrorist, may I ask you
Today, when you marched into the stadium,
when the smell of grass triggered your senses,
when little sand grains were felt between your toes,
when the sweat was soaking each part of your existing body,
and when we shared that very little moment of eye contact,
before they would forever close,
may I ask you,
did you know?
Terrorist, did you know?
did you know that this very moment
that this point of our lives
that this exact time
these seconds
would be our very last?
Dear Mr Terrorist,
in all truth, I don’t care about the answers you may give me
and in all truth, you don’t deserve the words dear or mister thrown at you
in all truth, terrorist, I just wonder.
I wonder if you can see me, right now, as I am drowned in a sea consisting of my blood only.
I wonder if you can see my dear father and my loving mother who are about to hear the most horrific news they ever heard. I wonder if you can see my brother waiting for me, probably wondering where I am by now. I wonder if you can see the moment when they realise what you yourself have created. I wonder if you can see my mother mourning over every little piece left of my body while feeling like the ground beneath her has escaped. I wonder if you can see my father not capable to believe, holding firmly each one of our memories while feeling his heart and soul leave.
I wonder if you can see what you have done,
by tearing me out of this world, terrorist,
and me, out of so many, my soul is just one.
