I saw a picture of Syrian child
It was powerful!
His name was Omar
He was drawing bombs, blood, helicopters
And dead children
He could not speak
So traumatized
He could not smile
They asked him to smile to the Camera
He tried
But couldn't
They took his picture
And the picture of his drawing
They were powerful
His name was Omar
Her name was Maram
She had sad green eyes
Bleeding in the head
Crying in her tent
Raising her hands surrendering to the Camera
Screaming of pain after a shrapnel penetrated her spleen
She wore bloody white dress
And hugged an old bloody teddy bear
She looked at the Camera
With her innocent wide green eyes
She was sad
They took her picture
It was powerful
Her name was Maram
His name was Hamzah
A victim of a barrel bomb
He was playing football in the streets
He heard the sound of Helicopter
From a distance
In the blue skies of Aleppo
He looked up
It was a dark dot
The dark dot threw another
Dark dot
Children were amused
Looking up at the skies
Pointing with their small fingers
People were scared and running everywhere
To hide from the falling hell
A cheap barrel stuffed with TNT
With Shrapnel
With metal
Hamzah kicked the ball one more time
With his right foot
It was his last time
Kicking the ball
With her right foot
He heard an explosion
And passed out
He woke up in a field hospital
Under the ground
He looked at his right leg
It was not there
He saw bloody dressing instead
They took his picture
And Video
Crying
looking at where his right foot would have been
It was powerful picture
And powerful YouTube
His name was Hamzah
Her name was Basmalah
Her house was bombed
And so was her school and her neighborhood
By surface to surface missile
She knew the name of the missile
And the names of the fighter jets
And the names of Mortar Guns
Every child in her village did
She could not count from one to ten
Or write her name
A sniper killed her brother
They came and detained her father
He did not come back
They raped her mother
She walked five days to the border
With everyone else
She ate one piece of hard bread
They allowed her into the border
And allowed her into the tent
She was visited by NGOs
She was visited by church people
She was visited by politicians
Even Angelina Jolie came to visit
They all took selfies with her
And her toy
They all left
And she stayed in the tent
With her toy
They took her picture
Looking at the Camera with empty wide hazel eyes
It was powerful
Her name was Basmalah
His name was Mohammad
A victim of Chlorine bomb
He was asleep when the barrel fell
In the middle of the night
No lights
No sounds but the sound of winds
He heard the barrel falling
People joyed
The barrel did not explode
He smelled bleach
And felt tightness in his chest
His eyes started tearing
Unable to breathe
Coughing and chocking
His lungs filled up with fluid
They rushed him to a field hospital
Underground for protection
They gave him Oxygen
They gave him antidote
He gasped his last breath
They also took his picture
And Video
A innocent face of another dead
Syrian child
It was powerful picture
And a powerful video
His name was Mohammad
His name was Aylan
Aylan Kurdi
Two years old
So excited to ride the boat
With his brother Galep
For the first time
And last time
In their short life
With his family
Mama, Baba and Galep
In the Mediterranean sea
To safety
In Europe
Where there is milk
And future
And school
And toys
In Europe, they don't torture people
He was told
Or kill children
It was not a crowded boat
It was a stormy night
He felt sick to his stomach
Everyone was screaming
He was scared, crying, cold and scarred
A big wave swallowed the boat
And Galep
He saw baba, mama and Galep disappearing
One after one
In the Mediterranean sea
A big wave swallowed him
He saw a white light
An angel
The Angel was crying
The angel hugged him
The sea washed his body to the shores
They took his picture
With his red t-shirt
Dark blue pants
And new shoes
It was powerful
His name was Aylan
So keep looking at the pictures
Peeking into our suffering
We know that we are not worth saving
So enjoy our pictures
And our videos
Tweet about them
They are worth tweeting
They will be
Retweeted
And favored
By many
We guarantee it
Dead Syrian children are popular
In the market of pictures
Nothing more
Nothing less
They are powerful
And we are not!