I am a war child.



In the morning, it is dark. The nights are even darker. The only lights are gunshots and rocket fires. Smoke filled lanes. Abandoned houses and streets. We are crammed in little rooms. Crammed in underground bunkers. I have seen more death than life. I am just a child. I think my heart dies a little inside, every time, I hear that someone I love is no longer alive. I am a war child. Living in square rooms. Living in square lives. This is what my life reduced to. This is of what remains, of what I thought would be a wonderful life turned out to be death and fight. The weekdays pass and the weekends go. I hear screams, shouts, and nothing more. I am a war child. Trapped in a square life. I have no escape. I cannot go back in time. I cannot rewind my life. What I have seen in my life cannot be unseen. The sounds of drones cannot be unheard.
Knock! Knock! They come on our doors. When we refuse to open it, they bash it and break it through. With big guns and badges on suits, dressed up in grey helmets and brown boots. They kick us around like animals. Parade around the room. Call us names. Curses and abuse. Grab my sisters by the hair. Take them to another room. All I hear are screams and shouts. All I see is deadly grins when they come out. My mother keeps weeping. My father went numb. Trapped in a square life. Trapped with no way out. My brother went to war. He said he would fight for the homeland. I heard the news on Sunday. I realized the last good hug we had was months ago. He was hit in the chest twice in two rounds. I realized I would not feel the warmth of his body against mine, anymore. My friends are all gone. I have no idea where they went. I miss playing with them. The grown up games are no fun to play. I tasted fear. I clenched onto hope. However, a pain throbs in my heart when I think of going outside and seeing the playground in such a mess. I tasted blood in my mouth, again. We are out of food. The electricity is gone. The sounds of sirens and cannons are all around. I am a war child. I am as I am. Nothing to see here. Nothing to read here. Just another story of a war child. Just another tale of large-scale massacre.


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