I am a Syrian child,
I am a casualty of war,
My name is Fazia.
You go to school and sing nursery rhymes,
I hide in corners at the sound of bomb shells;
You hug your siblings and say “good night”,
I hurdle with my sister on a mat in utter terror;
You go to sleep with a story read to you,
I go to bed praying it wouldn’t be my last night;
You stroll into town waving at trams,
I run on lonely paths away from fighter jets;
You decorate your house with pictures and flowers,
My house decorations are shrapnels and bullets holes;
You walk on paved streets, with street lights shining,
I walk on streets littered with dead bodies, sometimes in the dark;
Your world is surrounded by beautiful houses,
Mine is surrounded by ravaged and collapsed buildings;
You are surrounded by your mama, papa, and family,
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