You wrap yourself in armament
A hero you dream to be,
They tell you
Gifts amass in heaven
Awaiting your glory day
Seventy virgins they quietly say.
I ask, how heroic can it be,
When those you attack
Are women and children bent to pray
To the Allah that you worship each day
Still with drugs and the rhetoric of hate
Your leaders send you out
Your mission “to die” they calmly say
Promising what awaits you is great
Instead I ask; If that is true
Why don’t they die in place of you?