When your Home becomes your Grave

I’m exhausted, last night I couldn’t sleep;
but when I did I could hear bombs in my dreams - nightmares situation,
How could they be so evil?
making bombs out of children and innocent people

We expect the bombs, not knowing we’re next,
huddled in the corner of my room trying to protect my little brother
as the building shakes like it’s possessed
but there’s nothing stronger
than the will of the oppressed

I bomb back with my lyrics and rhymes,
living at times,
trying to break the Palestinian minds
what’s hiding in the clouds, hanging over my head
my dad risks his life outside to buy bread
The 4th war in my 12th year
at this stage I’m numb
no I haven’t felt scared
there’s nothing I can do in this case to stay safe
I’m brave
even though this house could be my grave

I want freedom for the population
2 million prisoners living in this location
shouting at the wall but nothing is ever changing
that’s life under an occupation  

I want freedom for the population
2 million prisoners living in this location
shouting at the wall but nothing is ever changing
that’s life under an occupation

Mothers mourn, frightened with grief
white sheets cover bodies
that lie on the streets
buildings turn to ash but my mind is made of steel
so it doesn’t take much for me to heal
or lose the will to live
or lose our minds

my auntie lost her home, so she lost her life
but she’s still alive but traumatised by the bombs

Free, free Palestine
Free free Palestine