He's small and frail with big brown eyes -
He's be raised on Terror - Torture - Lies !
The wounds on his face are bloodied and sore
His soul is bruised - his world at war!
Blood cracked and dried on his chequered shirt -
Bare feet soiled with tears and dirt.
Flies buzz and settle on his runny nose
Where is hope? No one knows!
Evil is here and rules his home -
Zimbabwe in Africa now all alone.
Death walks boldly through a broken door -
No safety, no peace or laughter any more!
His wounds will heal in all good time -
But not the pain in his Soul and Mind!
The torture and terror on his body and soul
A flag - A Victory for the Terrorist's goal!
They claim their prize and stake their claim
As they Rape , Burn, Torture and Maim!
The Blood will flow - and the Tears
As he struggles with his daily fears.
What future for Herbert and his Generation
What future for this tiny Nation?
© Pam Crowther
This page last modified on Thursday, 18 July, 2002