I am no warrior

but merely a frightened child

whose cries are being silenced

by soldiers' gunfire.

I reach out my hand,

trying to get a hold of someone;

however, my fingers slip right through

your blurry retreating silhouette.

Left behind on the bloody batllefield

with rotting corpses all around,

the darkness falls over me;

it's the only protection I've got.

Dragging my feet slowly,

the sun starts rising in the sky,

giving me a beautiful image

of the dusk - the only nice thing around.

No saviour comes looking,

I have long lost the spark of hope

of someone finding me;

for I am missing, but not being missed.

I don't make it very far,

strolling aimlessly around a gone land.

Now lying half-dead on the ground

I feel both my body and mind

finally find the long desired rest.

Image of my innocent mother

flashes before my lidded eyes

and I know that after

such a long time, I'm coming home.