Can you see the footprint tears marked on my face?
I am the forgotten child.
Slowly crumbling and shattering in this God forsaken place,
My ribcage becomes more visible each day you smiled.
I am the lost boy,
My bones are like brittle contraction poles,
That can barely hold this AK-47 toy,
And my fingers are stained with these bullet holes.
I am the amputated father,
I walk with one leg not even carrying any armour.
My charcoal lips are dryer with this scorching weather,
And I never kissed water because dust seems to be the only flavour
I am the broken mother,
Forced to flee my home because I couldn’t bother,
To live another second while my child crawls on the floor,
looking for food under the cooker.
I am the dead brother,
Recruited by militants because I thought I was a fighter.
I am the orphaned sister,
made to look after six siblings without a shelter.
I am the wounded streets,
Bombs detonate above me as my concrete heart beats.
I am the rivers that can’t flow,
Our thirsty skin cracks as earth starts to grow.
I am poverty,
I am suppressed liberty.
I am the drought, the hungry cattle and camels
I am the famine that suffocates embryos in mammals.
I am the tainted peace,
I am the lifeless police
I am the crying please!
I am the silent disease.
I am them, they, us, and we
I am him, her, his and she
I am you, your, myself and me
But I am,
I am … Somalia
Copyright © 2012