When your homeland becomes an RPG (Role Playing Game), with every street having blood to walk over, like in an FPS (First Person Shooting) gaming environment, then none of our children longs for a Sony PlayStation™ or an XBox™ 360…

Children play on an anti-aircraft gun near Beirut, Lebanon.
When real tanks are the only replacement for your ever-wanted HotWheels™ toy cars…

Tanks become toys in Kandahar, Afghanistan.
When you lose both your legs in real, like when they lose it playing HangMan…

An Afghan child who lost both his legs in war, just as his father did.
When you cry with your old photographs of peace, like they laugh when they share their photos on Flickr…

An Iraqi child, a figure of pathos.
When you search for some play in dead letters, like they enjoy bowling and skating…

A child from Yemen, running a used tyre in the streets.
When your fellow runs short of a lifeline in reality, quite different from Call of Duty – Modern Warfare…

Iraqi children looking at their dead fellow.
“Make the young masters of the old!” – Dr. Allama Iqbal
- I am an Iraqi youth.
- I am an Afghani youth.
- I am a Lebanese youth.
- I am a Swati youth.
- I am a Sudanese youth.
- I am a Jordanian youth.
- I am a Syrian youth.
- I am an Yemenite youth.
- I am a Combodian youth.
- I am a Bosnian youth.
.
.
.
I am too young to face this truth.
















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