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The people
Are afraid, they’re cautious
Out in the streets it’s restless.
Teargas and police
Road blocks and rioters
Breaking, robbing, burning buildings.
“Is this a war mommy, mommy?”
I ask.
“what’s going on?”
“Why can no one leave the house?
Why is there food in tins to last a month?
Why can’t I go next door to play?”
Mommy always wanted me to be informed
To grow up and become a really smart girl
But when I read the papers, or watch the news
All the murders and the chaos, gets me so confused.
My uncles are tense
And all our friends and all the neighbours,
They’re making me scared.
“The world’s coming to an end,”
Says my idiot cousin.
It’s five years later
I thank God he was wrong.
Now lingers in the air
Very much like a boomerang
Those statues in church say
“Things might not be good.”
They talk about it every Sunday
Even more than “The Flood.”
And the people are scared today
And they’re stocking up on tins.
I’m older but I’m still confused
Something will go wrong
That’s what everyone seems to think.
So many people are leaving now
They say they're coming back
when it's over.
The storm comes again
Hopefully it will quickly be gone
It comes on stealthily
As another election.
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Writer Profile
Keeter
My name is Nikita, but almost everyone has a pet name for me. People usually call me nik or niki. I'm fifteen. I've spent my whole life (except for a year and a half when I was little) in Guyana.
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