Once Upon A Time Poem by Mustafa Khairallah

Once upon time
There was a young child
Who saw a severe crime
His father Killed his pride
A gang was in their prime
they did what they did and didnt hide
They cut every flower and stopped every rhyme

The child was there
when -for money- his father sold his ife
while the gang didnt care
about her children each with a broken knife
they killed them with no fair
till there was only five
The child and his four brothers ramained there

Day after day
the child grew up
He never forgot that day
but he had a small kid to bring up
a small kid knew only how to play
and hadnt yet drunk from the misery cup
From which he would drink one day

The kid grew up to ten
He saw his family like a broken wall
two of his uncles fought for a hen
and the other two live in a palace with a great hall
They wrote their name in the gang book with betray pen
the kid asked his father about it all
he said: ' It is not our business to deal with those men'

The kid didnt cry
for whatever he saw
he threw a smal stone
at the gang's boss
and the family perished with six cheap bullets
and never remembered any more
I konw that family, do you?