They walk past burnt tyres and posters
peeling like old promises.
Uniforms faded, shoes talking before them
on roads that listen too closely.
They know which streets to avoid,
which eyes not to meet.
They learn early
that innocence is not armour.
Their hands hold notebooks,
phone screens with cracked dreams,
a mother’s warning still warm
in their ears.
Boys without guns grow up fast.
Not brave
just careful.
Careful is not the same as safe.
Sirens do not call their names,
but bullets do not ask.
Nightfall is a test
they never applied for.
When one of them does not return,
the questions arrive armed:
Where was he going?
Who was he with?
As if survival were evidence.
They had no guns.
Only plans.
Only tomorrows rehearsed quietly
under their breath.
If you want peace,
protect the boys who carry nothing
but their lives.
Because every nation
that loses its unarmed boys
is already at war with itself.
©️ Dibang Mary
Dec 17, 2025
Dec 17, 2025 at 4:58 PM UTC
They walk past burnt tyres and posters
peeling like old promises.
Uniforms faded, shoes talking before them
on roads that listen too closely.
They know which streets to avoid,
which eyes not to meet.
They learn early
that innocence is not armour.
Their hands hold notebooks,
phone screens with cracked dreams,
a mother’s warning still warm
in their ears.
Boys without guns grow up fast.
Not brave
just careful.
Careful is not the same as safe.
Sirens do not call their names,
but bullets do not ask.
Nightfall is a test
they never applied for.
When one of them does not return,
the questions arrive armed:
Where was he going?
Who was he with?
As if survival were evidence.
They had no guns.
Only plans.
Only tomorrows rehearsed quietly
under their breath.
If you want peace,
protect the boys who carry nothing
but their lives.
Because every nation
that loses its unarmed boys
is already at war with itself.
©️ Dibang Mary