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My friend, he was my friend,
They burnt him, right there, alive,
His child, they burnt him too,
And joked, “Roasted lamb for dinner!”
His wife, I had eyed her once,
They raped her and I stood,
I stood on my side of the line,
The line, we had not created,
I hadn’t seen this line earlier,
Had it always existed between us?
Had I failed to see it until today?

My child, hung in my arm,
The line was keeping him safe,
My wife, peeping through the door,
Was thanking her God for the line,
I stood, watching the play,
Foul or fair, I had no complaints,
The line of smoke and smell,
Pungent but real, the line was there,
Drawn with blood, sneering at me,
Had it always existed between us?
Had I failed to see it until today?

My friend, a pious man,
Had prayed everyday until today,
Unanswered prayers of protection,
His fault, his God was wrong,
I had prayed not, any day,
I had feasted at his behest,
A hundred times at his table,
Filth fills my stomach as I wonder,
Staring at the line dancing with hunger,
Had it always existed between us?
Had I failed to see it until today?

Chants and hymns, growing louder,
Gnawing at my friend and his child,
A thirst rising in my throat,
A little longer I want to share,
With my new found friends and family,
The desire to be the slayer,
To rule from the other side of the line,
Line is bold and I am getting bolder,
I knew he didn’t belong and I let him,
It had always existed between us,
The line that I see and recognize today!