Hey, Little Kid.
How is it you reached here?
Play the cards as they say,
And they will let you stay.
One day you will be Deported to the lost cause,
Be a commodity of love for the broken-hearted.
Have a turn as a blinded breathless race-horse,
Or just a scapegoat, in the name of the ones above.
They will sell you the poisonous gas mask,
A token of fiction for ones who once lived.
They are gonna call you dumb,
Until they execute you for not being one.
One day Little kid you will be old enough,
To cry at the helpless selves and drop no tear.
They shall wash you in the dirt,
And you will safely be one of them.
Don’t care more than they want you to,
And it won’t detonate at least not on you.
Don’t worry Little kid, Learn how to kill,
And they will leave a room way above for you.