The sound of my daily alarm,
Swooning over and crashing beneath my ear.
Killing all aspects of my motivation for the
Rest of time.
These are how my days go.
My alarm continues to play,
All throughout the day.
Underneath all the dirt,
Somewhere beneath my barely made bed,
Is the missing pair of my shoes for school.
I walk for what feels like miles and miles
To glide across the soft dirt and rubble.
There is no class anymore.
There is no classroom anymore.
Just in my hand a piece of paper and a pencil,
A mind full of ideas,
and a body numb to the shock.
There are too many ideas in my mind,
none with faces as all the ones I am familiar with,
remain disfigured.
I walk a further few miles to reach the canal where I see
other children weeping.
Others playing in the canal; floating and swimming.
This is my reality. No expectations.
Living.
Nothing.
Who am I?
One of the millions of children
in a war refugee camp.
- Sumayrah Chowdhury (Words.of.S)
