I sit sharpening my machete br With a faint ring of steel on steel br The blade has been worn down br With a passion of sharpness. br br Wooden handle, black with sweat and old blood br Chipped but serviceable. br I try hard not to remember br The last time steel bit bone br The last time the machete and I killed. br br Shrill screaming, accusations and decades br Of unforgiving hate br A lot of it made up by the last minister in power. br Yet, the effect being the same. br Your friend becomes your enemy. br Death being the answer. br br I cannot sleep at night br The memories of my actions br And screams of terror, br Keep me up, sweating in panic and self loathing. br This nightmare is shared amongst my friends br All who killed for what they believed in. br br I have blood on my hands br That I cannot wash off br And the rest of my life br To remember the hate, terror and murder br That I helped inflict that night.