Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2019
The sun almost melted the tarmac,
As a game, we didn’t wear shoes,
I always knew, I was gonna lose
Because the heat made me jump back

He always won - he could stand there forever
Unlike us, he was used to hot weather.
He came from Iraq, for us that sounded better
We didn’t know that it wasn’t a pleasure.

For us he, was a young boy from the desert,
We didn’t know what it means to get hurt,
Not from a ball in the *****, but from a bomb alert,
before the bombs burst and tear down walls

Tear down the walls of your house,
The boom makes rooms to tombs,
You see your neighbour in a shard’s reflection,
But after three days, still no resurrection

His family didn’t try to rebuild,
Not because they were not skilled,
They just didn’t want to get killed.
Their new neighbours were not thrilled.

They only showed scepticism,
And even locked their septic system,
Openly showed that they’re afeard,
Eventually S. and his family disappeared.
Years later I met S. again on the tram,
I still didn’t know why they left back then,
He said they didn’t want to be invaders,
But that’s all they were to their neighbours.
Written by
M Schmid  Stuttgart, Germany
(Stuttgart, Germany)   
56
     Fawn
Please log in to view and add comments on poems