Legitimate an Occupation
A key was handled with the utmost care,
In no rush but to pass over to generations,
A legacy that would live on forever.
Little boys roamed the crowded lair,
Scared of fictitious legal implications,
Threatened by the uniforms by the river.
At times, little boys wonder with a stare,
How all this rendered legitimate an occupation,
To quickly hide from flying bullets and take cover.
To grow up here was a challenging dare,
To instantly become the center of allegations,
And maybe get shot before confessing to your lover.
“Is it worth it?” asks the little boy, unaware,
As he eagerly explores his imaginations,
To find no clear answers, but to suffer.
Little boys around the world have their share,
They grow up unperturbed, forming nations,
And here, little boys are doomed forever.