The shrieks of kids slowly fade away,
as mothers’ woes echo in the distance.
Nine months is too long not to cry.

Iron thunderclap painted blood like an overlay.
How could you keep pushing insistence?
The shrieks of kids slowly fade away.

Children holding guns are prepared for a waylay,
raised as puppets for the master’s dominance.
Nine months is too long not to pray.

Carrying loads so they can repay
debts, not theirs, to remain in existence.
The shrieks of kids who can no longer play.

Bodies of pure souls were treated like a lump of clay,
by grown-ups who could have been trusted for reliance.
Nine months is too long not to cry.

Weaklings, frail beings, designed to decay.
Oh, who told you a child to be?
Who cares if the shrieks of kids slowly fade away,
Nine months isn’t too long, anyway.