My skin is burning.

It feels like Nagasaki and Hiroshima in the day,

A city that exists as an example of war after effects,

My thoughts, are like children born with missing limbs,

My illness creeps under my skin, like a nuclear fission,

Like the splitting of Uranium nucleus over and over again,

The destruction is unstoppable, it is a chain reaction. A disturbed equilibrium,

At night I turn into a war-ground for super powers. At night I feel like Syria,

My cries get louder than the falling drones,

Like wailing of a mother, who lost her children,

An aching womb, a thumping chest,

My lips look like a monotonous plain; they look like debris,

My nails: the young dead bodies, turning blue,

Waiting to be buried,

My wrists have drying wounds, like the ones on a militants body,

People around me are fighting over my oil and gold,

They are fighting for supremacy over me,

I feel like my mother: the Earth,

I reek of war, and chaos, and blood.


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