As the plane thundered overhead,
the little one smiled—faint, fragile—
at last, he thought, help had come.
He hungered for bread,
for water,
for life.
He was mistaken.
With trembling hands,
he lifted his empty plate—
but death was what descended.
Fire rained from the heavens,
hell unleashed upon him,
though innocence clothed his soul.
And far away, they celebrated.
They named him terrorist—
a child who only begged for bread.
Yes—
a terrorist,
for daring to be hungry.
Apr 21
Apr 21, 2026 at 2:12 AM UTC
As the plane thundered overhead,
the little one smiled—faint, fragile—
at last, he thought, help had come.
He hungered for bread,
for water,
for life.
He was mistaken.
With trembling hands,
he lifted his empty plate—
but death was what descended.
Fire rained from the heavens,
hell unleashed upon him,
though innocence clothed his soul.
And far away, they celebrated.
They named him terrorist—
a child who only begged for bread.
Yes—
a terrorist,
for daring to be hungry.
Request permission to use this poem