“Future poets, artist, scientists, doctors and engineers, died in the bomb explosion yesterday night.” reported a news channel.
100s of dream died that day, kids with dreams.
06:00 AM on a sunday morning,
Zhara woke up.
One weekdays she wakes up at 6,
alarm clock is her enemy.
Sunday morning, she planned to sleep late,
She was tired, working late.
*Sounds of bomb explosion*
ZHARA IS DEAD.
“SYRIA WAR- another bomb blast kills hundreds of people.”
In hospital, there is complete mess, doctors haven’t slept in weeks, nurses working 24*7. Dead bodies everywhere, parents crying, children weeping.
Few news reporters can also be spotted.
One news reporter is asking a women whose is child is admitted in hospital day before yesterday.
This is how their conversation goes.
“How is your son now?”
“I’m waiting for my son to die.”
*kids crying, parents weeping*
News reporter couldn’t believe what he just heard.
“Why mam? He will be get better.”
“No, I want him to die. At least he will be free of pain and suffering. I was just making bread from him when the roof fell in. At least in heaven there is food.”
25 missed calls from DAD
20 text messages from Faizan
Zhara was supposed to leave for Jordan today.
“Countries around the world condemn the killing of civilians because of ongoing civil war in Syria. Twitter flooded with #PeaceForSyria messages.”
Sit on your couch, relax,
Play some music.
Take out your phone,
Oh it’s already in your hand.
Type a sad message, with a #PeaceForSyria
Go to Facebook,
Change your DP to black.
You just played a very important part in stopping ongoing civil war in Syria.
You are a hero.
To hell with the humanity.