My world is burning,
The fire rages fierce and mourning—
Its greedy flames reach for my favourite doll,
Turning memories to ash, consuming it all.
Still, I never tried to escape or flee,
The fire’s grip holds every inch of me.
It wraps around like a ruthless shroud,
A silent scream, both fierce and loud.
It burns my skin, then flesh, delves deep,
Through blood and bone—no tears to weep.
The sky, once blue, now bleeds with red,
While prayers of hope hang by a thread.
The heat consumes my heart and soul,
As I watch my world lose all control.
Smoke dances like ghosts in the air,
Each whisper laced with silent despair.
This pain, this rage, this endless cry,
Does anyone listen as children die?
Still, we rise, though torn apart—
Ashes may bury us, not our heart.
Oh world, do you see the flame?
Or do you simply forget our name?
But you know what martyred means—
We carry resistance in our veins.
