To march out of a home in one of the many streets in a city for a peaceful chant in hope for a better coexistence took courage in a country landlocked by chaos awaiting to strike. The simple hope that could do no harm was retaliated to in proportions that defeat the very point of conciousness.

In a war led by men with hearts of rubble that shower upon the innocent skins has infused a smell of salt and guilt that remains of the existence that once existed.

The blood that doesnt recieve a clean space to spill itself has been crying into the void, not with a political propaganda, not with a leader talk nor with an intention of seeking sympathy. It cries of men, who've brought hell to cities and for people who continue to rot in it for reasons that are governed by parties who don't speak for them.

The rubble screams. Literally. From people stuck beneath whose moans that sound monotonous now, now question their hopes.

Seven year olds tweet their final messages to the world which has been silent, watching. Watching the erasal of a city, and the principles of people within, who continue to shout, not for themselves now but for the diminishing humanity.

Peace never felt so far away, never seen in such a manner from the eyes of ruins that were once homes

What is Aleppo”, you ask?

I used to think, and was told how ignorance was bliss. But today, you take in bold from me.



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