The rope and a chance to reform

There was a time when I slept  among Kalashnikovs,

When I was always willing to be the suicide bomber,

I walked among fearless men,

Who spared not even young children.

They said they’ll pay me sums, a hundred rupees;

I’ve not even seen a hundred rupees.

They said they’ll feed my poor mother

And cure her of her ailments.

They said they’ll give me a better house to live in,

And give me a square meal a day.

Oh! How naïve I was to have believed them.

I was young and full of vigor,

When they asked me to do the foul deed,

I set my pistols and bombs,

And toiled myself day in and day out,

With patience and excitement.

But the day I killed them,

I saw a part of me die with them.

I heard wailing mothers,

In the wake of their loss.

That robbed them of their hopes and joys.

I saw blood everywhere, vengeance in every breath,

Until it taught me of my ghastly act.

My hands are stained with the stench of my beastly act

Oh! What have I done dear lord?

What harm did those kids do to me?

They laughed, they played

And they filled the ether with love and joy.

But I…..I took their lives,

Since when have I become such a monster!

Give me one chance,

Just one is all I asked for.

I wanted to compensate,

I wanted to give all my life for those I’ve taken,

I wanted to save at least one,

If not millions from the deadly clutches of terror,

I wanted to turn over a leaf

And become a changed man.

But what do I do now,

For it is only the rope, the hangman and blackness I can see,

The chance for reform has vanished,

Vanished before my very eyes.