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Rated: E · Poetry · Political · #1151937
it's old but it's still relevant in today's global climate of conflict
Little Jimmy was eight years old
He lived quite near a terrorist stronghold

He loved playing football out on the street
Where just metres away the enemy would meet

He skipped and hopped, jumped and played
While evil men made plans to slay

At six o' clock he'd go home for tea
To his terraced house with room for three

Mammy, Daddy and sisters four
Busy with their respective chores

Everyday the same routines
Out he'd go to scuff his jeans

Cops and robbers, hide and seek
All part of the childhood dream

And far away the lawmen plan
To bring down the enemy, break the dam

With tanks and guns, not words and nous
They work to destroy the fighter's house

And little Jimmy's eight years old
His ninth birthday, he'll never know
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