Scarred By Your Hands

Often you saw me

In your nightmares

Or during your apathy days in front of the tube

Sometimes you felt scorn and shame

Sometimes you just turned off

I was far away, too far or too pitiful to stand

But in the end I was like you

With my home and my love

Now I crawl in a tents camp or

I stagger in sweat during the usual p.s.d.

Maybe a badge on my chest

Surely a web of scars that entangles my soul

Maybe victim maybe not

In rightful wars or genocides

My age is that of man

Sometimes too young to understand

Sometimes too old and tired to stand something more

I've always been wandering your lands

Since the day you learned how powerful you felt

With that stone in your hands.