I remember the words of my mother when she sent us to the basement. She said to me and my little brother: „Keep quiet! You´ll be safe there.“ This was the very last time I saw her. We went downstairs to hide and cover. We heard the bombs of the enemy fighters. Mom was still upstairs.
Faces to the ground. Walls came crashing down and buried me alive. Can´t move on my own. Bones shattered by stones. I tried to survive.
I lost my faith and stopped believing. I just focused myself to keep on breathing. What have we done? We were not guilty. But they took my family. I held the cold hand of my brother. Didn´t know what happened to the others. It took a while till the neighbours found me. But I was already dead.
Like a turtle that´s trapped in it´s shell and the holes are fixed with tape. Like a prisoner in his deathrow,who´s trying to escape.
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