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Freedom From Martyrdom

We have been fond to fight

War of those who do nothing but decide

It is us on the frontlines

Not them on their beautiful resides

Nobody will wait for us

When the time of demise comes

They hijacked our noble infatuation

The meanings of love in our bosoms

Differed from all meanings ever

We lived to love our course, Jihad

To believe in Paradise and martyrdom

That never was option to fortify

We were aiming at Somali love

Our ambitions were so great

To conquer our land from enemies

We feared nobody on earth

Except God the Omnipotent

And Jihad was our weapon

They jailed our youthfulness

My heart is sinking in sickness

We saw the slyness of their plans

Plotting against the virtuous minds

The turning tales of love in religion

Poison to veil our life

We forget about our humanity

Only to render Islam victorious

But do you know what we failed

The basic thing called Love, Peace

The pillar of Islam

We were so naïve to believe deceit

They’ve rotten of options

The knight surpassing imaginations

For they now know better

The scheme failed the test

No place to hide

On fright for last flight

Now we declare to world

We’re not for service

No matter what the cocoons plots

The pledge fills our hearts up

Love is not to dry up

And no wonder ever for SOMALIA.


It killed my parents, left me with nothing.
It destroyed my life, left me in fighting.
It cut short my dreams, scares not healing.
Its called civil war, the child soldier speaking.

Walking up early, gather for commander’s decision.
Gun hanging on shoulder, heading to position.
Not knowing what next, only have the notion.
Friends for Survival, living with caution.

Firing first shot, waiting for enemy’s casualty.
No word coming, fissure for uncertainty.
A glimpse on the scene, unfolding calamity
Body of brother, shows the bullet mighty.

Congratulation from above, gives soldier encourage.
To fight on and on, is the wish of entourage.
Far from Laxity, to avoid commanders’ outrage.
Back to base, with words of discourage

Next day is another day, just like yesterday.
Day in day out, I keep telling myself final day.
But my AK-47 reminds me the life everyday.
Am tired of life, not yet I guess the day.

When father was alive, he guided my moves.
Now he is gone, everything is on move.
Mother was such a charm, dropping her daily love.
Smacking I used to hate, today I am calling above.

Brother was lucky, he is already gone.
Sister got married early, to warlord’s son.
No one else left, but me alone.
Living under the mercy of ALLAH and gun.

Everyday I wish, someday will be without strife
I hate the lifestyle, fancy better life.
Dreaming of having children and a good wife.
Child soldier’s wish is to live better life.

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