Well, All the Good Titles Were Used

Ramadan in Syria and Palestine

{I submitted this for the school yearbook in eighth, and it was selected. Also, I have writer's block and feel guilty for not writing anything in a long time so, enjoy!}
Ramadan is in the air,
But there's still despair.
In the brethren,
And in the children,
Of Syria and Palestine.
Sunrise is a beautiful time,
Though not in war struck Palestine.
The beauty of this country blasted,
Children watching families be shot with bullets.
Sunset marks the end of the fast,
In Syria, it is heard with a blast.
A single date is passed on quick,
Then the town is seized by panic.
By the bullets and missiles,
Corpses lying in piles.
The houses of the people razed,
By the enemy's rage.
"Ummi, Ummi," cried the three-year-old,
The body of her mother in her hold.
What did they do to deserve this?
The children, their childhood they have missed.
As we sit in our comfortable houses,
The children of those countries hide in ruins of the houses.
So let us not forget about,
The people of Syria and Palestine who run about.
How the innocent die so young,
Four, three, some whose lives have not yet begun.
As we crawl in our beds to sleep,
The people of Syria and Palestine weep.

{Here you go}