On our way to school

We are on our way to school.

We love our teacher.

We read, we write we play and sing.

Memories of the war hang heavily around us

The death, the screaming, the sound and smell.

The colour of blood we know too well.

We've seen it all. nothing spared.

We are going to school

White bows on our head.

White so they may see us and not shoot, I think.

Sometimes I wish I could just wear pink.