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