Home is a sanctuary
A peaceful abode
A lovely place
Kindly, hear me out.
Let me tell you all
Of the prison I call home.
What shall I start with?
The fact that I’d prefer death to life?
Bombs dropping by the hour?
Playgrounds looking like grave yards
Only with the dead unburied
No worries, half are still unaccounted for.
Neighbors trapped in rubble
Hospitals barely standing
Dead streets everywhere
With dead closed ones all around
Everyone lives in fear
Of the horrors yet to be seen.
Shall I tell you more?
Of the hell I call home?
Where I’ve witnessed death and despair
Where I’ve seen cruelty and brutality?
Let me say it now
For I dread tomorrow
I fear I may not be able to say it again
Maybe I shall be a statistic tomorrow
Of the lost never to be found
Or the dead and unaccounted
This is my fate
One I grew to hate
Shall I describe it more?
I do have siblings
Ones I’ve not seen for months
Interrogative questioning, I heard
Before they went missing
I used to have a father,
One killed before my very eyes
A Mama too,
Who took her own life.
She preferred death over rape, you see.
I know where I live.
On Planet Earth, a fact this is
Yet, fellow Earth occupiers never feel
The terrors of what I call home
The lingering smell of death that hangs on my door
The streaks of blood that paints my streets
This is the prison I call home.
To all those humane,
I humbly beg
Regardless of the religion you profess
Kindly pray for #Aleppo.