Poem of Terror
Terrorist Life
Six years old you were taken away
Chosen, you were born to die
a camp in the desert ripped away
whipped even if you cry
From a book you were molded,
from a book you were shaped
you are a weapon they tell of holy hate,
a sword in the desert, a sword of fate
One final prayer, in the afternoon sun
your training is over your training is done
you know your mission so climb in your car
your pray to the East, your drive isn't far
You see the gates
paradise at last, one final breath before the blast
at six years old you were chosen to die
no second thoughts, soon you will fly