No Child Is Safe In El fasher

There would be acres eating dust soot,
Where quietness shouting and hearts are broken and wounded,
We devour screeching of pain,
Toppling on strong-willed ears in hollow,
We see children mourning over dead roots, 
We hold disabled by sulk,
We shattered marbles in deep ebbing,
Your crumble sympathy sticking,
Ashes, entrails, and blood deluged us,
almost noticeable are being doomed bourgeois,
lateral casualty of torture,
No tenets, no endowment, no distinction,
Slaughtered surrounded by garnishing firing,
To nest the raider with a sense of right,
To advocate the abandonment of powerless children,
To vanish the war, children alone in dilemma,
Witness fugitive camp in desert wasteland,
Lost children adhesive to each other for ambition,
we penetrate with pain in my heart,
The torture of children 
We have fated to grind, how untenable it is,
To rise by while they taste death,
Children who have no more tears to yowl,
Your spotless stares craving good for nothing,
Your frangible heads are shown to us as attestation as generosity lays by ill-fated,
We turn off the torch at night and grasp that,
pardon will never be granted to the human race,
Until we take each other’s hands as one nation,
Allied, in our prevalent intention,
Making judgment pleads for tenderness,
Above everything,
Every child demands to be sheltered.