sorry Somalia, where the grounds can't get fed from the rains drops of our lord, instead your choked by drops of blood of the innocent who lay dead on the floor, and how can Somalia grow, how can it be moulded back to how it was before, Somalia can't be the same if the people won't change them selves, instead of words of wisdom being shared, but ignorance of the talk of tribesmen has been wide spread, Allah they don't know your 99 names but with pride they can mention every single name of their ancestries, and the ocean and birds aren't heard, but the screams of the innocent is heard from a far,and they carry the burden,witnessing the ones who got murdered, and the shivers follow down my spin and if my tears could tell the story of how it all began,or how it isn't getting any better now, sorry Somalia if I could speak up, but the ones who want to change it for the good are silenced out, and guns in the hands of the men are respected, I'll never understand the greed of the men who watch our land crumble to dust, but we are all in depression talking about the past of how our country was, and the only way moving forward we must forget what we lost and build our selves new memories and the only way to move forward is to banish all close minded unnecessary sickness, inshAllah we will see you at your best.
Idil Mahamad
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