I can’t feel my toes. They’re frozen. Goddammit to hell. Yes, the fire of hell would be very useful right now for the children of Syria freezing to death in the besieged towns and the refugee camps this winter.
The heat of hell could ease some of the pain I am feeling right now in both of my freezing legs, so I can get out of my basement and go walking in the streets of Moadamiya and scream out loud: Fuck you Bashar, and fuck each and every person standing behind you, and fuck all the corrupt ones among the rebels and FSA leaders whose idiocy let Bashar get us to this point.
God. I wanna punch the sky and fight with the wind to stop it from freezing a starved people. Stop it! Stop adding to the suffering of homeless refugees.
God forgive me, and please give us your mercy and strength to fight the cold. Goddamn the cold.
People in my town are trying to gather anything they can find from the rubble of the destroyed houses, wood, plastic, anything blowing in the wind.
Oh my darling Syria, what have they done to you?
Killed, raped, bombed, displaced, gassed, starved and now froze your sons and daughters, just because they didn’t want to see you a free lady choosing your own lover.
Hush, hush now don’t cry or you are gonna make me start crying too, Syria. It’s a dark freezing night. Cover yourself well and sleep on your wounds another night and have a sweet dream about your knight in shining armor coming on a fast horse, and let me have my own sweet dream about the hot fire of hell.