My name is Agnes…
Agnes…. War Child.
I’m just another poster on the Piccadilly line
..you’ve seen it all before
Going to work…or going home.
A little black girl looking sad.. large eyes so close to tears.
Mine is a story full of Agony…
Just like the rest of them.
He shot my father
Tortured my mother…
Then he married me..
A ‘marriage’ made in Hell
…and I am only twelve.
You look at me…feel sorry for my life
But soon you're standing up and drifting off…
And I am left
With an old man… lying in my bed..
And thinking of
..my mother’s blood red face
She… lying on the ground
My father’s dead.
I’d like to call out …. rescue me…but you cannot
You have your life to live
And there’s so many more than me to save
The continents are full of us.
…stop selling guns….
Kristine Byrne..4th June 2014
London.