Our throats dry, stomachs empty,
Our bones trembling, skin flaking,
If God permits, we find water on the morning dew.
It’s my calling—if I refuse I’m punished with the same fate,
Just a few more seconds praying for my family, and this life as I know it will have vanished,
I submit to the tyranny.
All hope is lost in the European gutters and sewers,
We walk the line, like we used to in grade school, but this time, sided by hounds and lifeless bodies
He will shut out the light once more, and fill me with new air.
My daughter, my dear daughter,
Her peaceful, umber eyes are filled with twinkling stars,
But we live in a world where they hate the stars.