On the borders of war.
The echoes of deep voices stirs her anticipation,
The girl eagerly peeps from the fissure in the door of the last house,
Waiting to see one glance of her father before he left,
Left for the sporadic war and became selfless,
She would do what not to just comfort herself once,
Through his tall gear-clad figure covered by the foreshadowing.
She had come all the way from her house on the middle street,
To this, the last street which was abandoned, because it just touched the borders of the war,
She wanted to capture his silhouette and later, inform her mother of its wonders,
Oh, wouldn't she be pleased?
She sees him, finally, and he's all right, murmuring to his sire,
Readying himself for the claws of danger and death that lay ahead,
Her heart pounds faster and her tiny fist clenches and unclenches like the tension's grip on the air,
She prayed to her worry' extent, hoping God didn't mark this as Dadda's last day,
Oh and sure, he did listen to the prayers for what happens now is tragic.
There was a movement in the darkness and she gasps as she sees a figure sly as a serpent move,
Move just in position to aim at Dadda, who hears nothing of this,
Cold fear seizes her for next is a matter of blur.
Somehow, the girl leaps out of her hiding, surprising her father,
Somehow, she takes a bullet for him, bravely, noiselessly,
Somehow, she ends up sprawled lifelessly on the ground,
Somehow, she manages a small smile trying to tell her father that any other daughter would do what she did.
But no, her father knows that if there was someone else they would've frozen,
He falls into a trance as he looks at the murder, who the sire shot, of his innocuous daughter,
Back to his saviour, as if to make sure this isn't all but a dream,
Then, he was certain, for he almost felt death apologise as it slowly took the girl's soul away,
Away, where he'll never reach in full conscious.
And the he cries,
Cries for the sacrifice she made,
She, who now lay on the floor, bleeding, lifeless,
And yet, smiling,
Smiling like an angel.
The girl eagerly peeps from the fissure in the door of the last house,
Waiting to see one glance of her father before he left,
Left for the sporadic war and became selfless,
She would do what not to just comfort herself once,
Through his tall gear-clad figure covered by the foreshadowing.
She had come all the way from her house on the middle street,
To this, the last street which was abandoned, because it just touched the borders of the war,
She wanted to capture his silhouette and later, inform her mother of its wonders,
Oh, wouldn't she be pleased?
She sees him, finally, and he's all right, murmuring to his sire,
Readying himself for the claws of danger and death that lay ahead,
Her heart pounds faster and her tiny fist clenches and unclenches like the tension's grip on the air,
She prayed to her worry' extent, hoping God didn't mark this as Dadda's last day,
Oh and sure, he did listen to the prayers for what happens now is tragic.
There was a movement in the darkness and she gasps as she sees a figure sly as a serpent move,
Move just in position to aim at Dadda, who hears nothing of this,
Cold fear seizes her for next is a matter of blur.
Somehow, the girl leaps out of her hiding, surprising her father,
Somehow, she takes a bullet for him, bravely, noiselessly,
Somehow, she ends up sprawled lifelessly on the ground,
Somehow, she manages a small smile trying to tell her father that any other daughter would do what she did.
But no, her father knows that if there was someone else they would've frozen,
He falls into a trance as he looks at the murder, who the sire shot, of his innocuous daughter,
Back to his saviour, as if to make sure this isn't all but a dream,
Then, he was certain, for he almost felt death apologise as it slowly took the girl's soul away,
Away, where he'll never reach in full conscious.
And the he cries,
Cries for the sacrifice she made,
She, who now lay on the floor, bleeding, lifeless,
And yet, smiling,
Smiling like an angel.
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