Poetry of an Orphan Child

I AM A CHILD

I am a child not a slave.
I am a child not an instrument.
I am a child not a soldier.
I am a child who deserves his right.

All day I sat on a rock breaking them like a machine.
No break, no rest.
When the sun sets, little is given to me.
I am a child who deserves his right.

My uncle holds my hand to the beautiful port.
Three dollars is given to me.
I am left behind.
Months later we are in Europe hopping for a better life.
Little did I know we are going to be prostitutes.
I am a child who deserves his right.

I watch with my own eyes as the bullet goes through my friend.
A push from behind, commanders ordering me to the frontline.
The bullets swept many, but God kept protecting me.
I am a child who deserves his right.

By Isaac Wathaka  

Young Africa Life orphanage home.