A shattered and concealed place where it seems like war begins with no end.
Home of the Shabaab gun show offs. Grenade attacks.
Roadside bombs that might take a mother's arms off.
She may never cradle her young again.
Welcome to a place where speeding pick-ups hiccup over desolate street pathways;
Narrowly missing the African sun-kissed women.
Turmoil is their next door neighbor.
The two have become well acquainted.
Stability illudes them.
The likelihood of a stable government would exclude and confuse them.
Here, it seems, the governance is but an utterance by the Transistional Federal Goverment.
Welcome to Hell!
"Where you are welcomed to sell and if them shells fall?" you'll have a hard time returning them.
You could only listen and commence learning,
How to decipher the difference between missle launches, bazooka blast and machine gun rounds.
Welcome to the.......
Mid-collapsed spiral stair cases.
Urine-infested and sea rot smelling rooms.
Hallowed.
As young men follow, the feeling of the leaved-quat stimulant.
Rolling ladu for hours under peaceful showers of light placed by the house's beacon lights.
Welcome to pain in the midst of beauty! It is my duty to escort you throughly through this land you've forgotten.
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