You drive your
tank over my child.
I throw a stone
at it.
The death of my
child
Is accidental,
collateral damage.
My stone is a
willful act of terrorism.
We are both
agreed
This is a true
statement of facts
As you look down
Through the TV
camera, in the chopper, high above the tank,
And I, down
below on the earthen ground
Cradling the
remains of my child.
You think you
will live forever.
I known you
won’t.
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