Syria Poem by Ibn Ali

All at once they break,
Shattered shards of brittle hearts,
Outed lights of little flames,
Now sat lonely in the dark,
Tiny voices, little souls,
Playing on the dusty track,
Heaving soldiers, metal army,
Would soon put an end to that,
Weak and wounded, failing voices
Amidst the noises cry for help,
We change the channel, no compassion,
They ask for empathy we lack,
Widowed wife and orphaned child,
Me, I'm afraid to say,
I sat comfy on my sofa,
Idle, stagnant, and full of play,
Whilst my mothers, and my daughters, and my brothers were all slain,
I'd hate to condescend, by telling you be patient,
It's hard to comprehend the magnitude of what you're facing,
My brother dear, and sister dearer,
I should be your mirror,
Tears should flood my eyes,
And my spine in constant shivers,
But the little that I do is not enough,
I could do better,
So I vow sincere and earnest,
That from this day,
You'll share my purse and when in my thoughts you'll take my smile away,
I'll pray for you as much I could,
Until you smile again,
Until you sleep in peace complete,
And not spend the night awake,
Until the guns are silenced,
Until He ousts the tyrants,
Until the blood thirsty men are denied their fill of violence.