I saw two men. Their faces hidden, their arms swollen. Had guns in their hand, and a chant on their lips, and they were walking towards me in black. In their eyes i saw fear, but in mine they saw religion. They didn't ask me my name. They didn't look around for anyone. They came here with no eyes, for all they saw were infidels, and in their eyes was me.
The last I remember is a cold barrel that was held on my forehead. A finger filled with perspiration touching the trigger, a breath full of regret hitting my eyebrows and the last drop of tear that fell off my chin. I know he saw that drop on the floor, I know his mind must have recorded it, I know his insides felt a cramp as that innocent drop of teary water felt the saddened floor with utmost peace, I know his eyes had seen it all. And yet I don't care what his name was, I don't care where he came from, for the next to fall was me.
There was mercy in his heart, for he wanted to escape. There was chaos in his hands for his shots went haywire. He wanted to kill, but his legs wanted to run away. His lips repeated a name he was trained. Behind every word, he thought, he was reaching closer to his God. But not anymore, for his bullets were real and his God has seen it all. One on the head, one on the hand, one for the little guy who could barely stand. Like a nursery rhyme he shot them all word by word, line by line as if blood was his food and life was his wine. But for every bullet he fired, his trembling fingers had said it all that his mind was dead and to the devil he'd sold his soul. And yet I don't care who he was, I don't care where his God was, for his bullets had then found me.
There is no music in what had just happened, but many heartbeats in there were their last. With every heart that stopped, stopped millions of thoughts that could bring that change to the world. For all those millions around the world who wait for a miracle, that one thought was their last hope. There were no guitars in there, but in there died many strings that held families together. With every string that broke in there, ended a stream of notes that could bring joy to those saddened ears and minds who looked at others with a smile and with a pain filled regret, imagined themselves. There was no voice in there, for all they had were words of a handler who didn't even dare to face the world. I don't care who asked him to, I don't care which song it was, there was no tune in there, for the next to end was me.
In a blink that bullet went through me, In a moment it erased my existence, In a second my life was over, for in the time my lungs could breathe my last, my life was a part of the past. It feels sad that all my life I had so many goals, so many targets, not many foes and in a blink of an eye I was reduced to a memory. But I don't care who I was, nor do i care who he was, for every Me that was shot in there, Millions today stand for me. I may be dead, I may be gone, but for once I know, be it Charlie, be it Ram, let it known to the dear killer of mine, no matter how many bullets he try, no matter how many children in line, Je Suis Charlie and I will stay alive.
The last I remember is a cold barrel that was held on my forehead. A finger filled with perspiration touching the trigger, a breath full of regret hitting my eyebrows and the last drop of tear that fell off my chin. I know he saw that drop on the floor, I know his mind must have recorded it, I know his insides felt a cramp as that innocent drop of teary water felt the saddened floor with utmost peace, I know his eyes had seen it all. And yet I don't care what his name was, I don't care where he came from, for the next to fall was me.
There was mercy in his heart, for he wanted to escape. There was chaos in his hands for his shots went haywire. He wanted to kill, but his legs wanted to run away. His lips repeated a name he was trained. Behind every word, he thought, he was reaching closer to his God. But not anymore, for his bullets were real and his God has seen it all. One on the head, one on the hand, one for the little guy who could barely stand. Like a nursery rhyme he shot them all word by word, line by line as if blood was his food and life was his wine. But for every bullet he fired, his trembling fingers had said it all that his mind was dead and to the devil he'd sold his soul. And yet I don't care who he was, I don't care where his God was, for his bullets had then found me.
There is no music in what had just happened, but many heartbeats in there were their last. With every heart that stopped, stopped millions of thoughts that could bring that change to the world. For all those millions around the world who wait for a miracle, that one thought was their last hope. There were no guitars in there, but in there died many strings that held families together. With every string that broke in there, ended a stream of notes that could bring joy to those saddened ears and minds who looked at others with a smile and with a pain filled regret, imagined themselves. There was no voice in there, for all they had were words of a handler who didn't even dare to face the world. I don't care who asked him to, I don't care which song it was, there was no tune in there, for the next to end was me.
In a blink that bullet went through me, In a moment it erased my existence, In a second my life was over, for in the time my lungs could breathe my last, my life was a part of the past. It feels sad that all my life I had so many goals, so many targets, not many foes and in a blink of an eye I was reduced to a memory. But I don't care who I was, nor do i care who he was, for every Me that was shot in there, Millions today stand for me. I may be dead, I may be gone, but for once I know, be it Charlie, be it Ram, let it known to the dear killer of mine, no matter how many bullets he try, no matter how many children in line, Je Suis Charlie and I will stay alive.
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