Babies on the Battlefield

 

A war is ablaze within our midst destroying all that we hold dear

Bullets are flying everywhere, leaving imminent death and tears

Little casualties are unaware that they are caught in the quagmire

They have no captain to lead them and no guns with which to return fire

 

The casualties of this war are many – there are no bullet-proof shields

There is a clear and present danger for our babies on the battlefield

Not fully grown and yet their lives are diminished much too soon

Because of cowards who hide behind guns – full of anger all consuming

 

To them life has no meaning – they just aim and pull the trigger

When they miss their target, an innocent life goes out with a final flicker

Their assassins’ hearts are cold—with souls devoid of the capacity to feel

And then we are left with the lifeless bodies of our babies on the battlefield

 

After all, selling dope and making money is the most important thing

Shootouts to guard posse and turf outweighs the decimation they bring

They build empires off the flesh and blood of our dying communities

Then spend all the money and die without leaving an enduring legacy

 

The pain they cause just to prove affiliation to a group of spineless cowards

So weak minded they lack the mettle to fight without guns and crowds

Our children pay the ultimate price – they did not chose this life

But for gangs, drugs, and money, they get to pay the ultimate price

 

Our brave soldiers are sent overseas to fight for other lands’ rights to be free

But here at home the war intensifies and cowards are claiming our babies

Terrorism runs rampant and no one seems to be doing anything

People continue to die as dope lords become their puppet kings

 

Multimillion-dollar prisons are erected to fight the ‘war on drugs’

Instead of using it for education and preventing kids from becoming thugs

Who, then breed more generations of children who kill to achieve ‘juice’ status

As they slaughter each other on barren fields warring against enemy factions

 

Communities are held hostage because no one wants to be labeled a squealer

But they blame law enforcement because they can’t catch the killers and dealers

The tragedy of individual apathy is the reason our children are dying daily

Slamming doors to law enforcement only allows crime to thrive and prevail

 

The rate at which our babies perish is painfully surreal

Our own black men are killing babies on the battlefield

This plight will end when we stop pretending the solution is not in our hands

So stand up tall and make the call that will heal our bleeding lands

Communities will become strong, violence ends, and we can begin to heal

And no longer will our babies perish on the battlefield

 

 

©2012 Kim Rosemon-Woods

All rights reserved