History- From a Child’s Point of View

She reveals pieces of herself, every now and then

On reflective surfaces when light is too dim

Sun shines through the shattered window…

That window that could not withstand the blow

And the shaking of the ground

It was not a nightmare

It was her life

Where explosions mask cries

There she stood, praying to die

She asked for the meaning of life

Her town seemed like a solider’s toy

In Iraq I buried that girl

SHE WAS ME

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