Day 2- Write a poem about life from a different point of view.
The murahaleen are doing this.
Marai Bai is no more than dust particles floating around. I am breathing in the village I grew up in. We are the Lost Boys and we are but a formation of ants wandering towards Ethiopia. The skin on my bones is sagging. My face is sunken in. My stomach is bloated. I have not had even a piece of grain in over two days. Fighter planes up ahead. Bombs down below. The murahaleen are doing this. And the only thing keeping me going is the image of my mother in her bright yellow dress.
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