Here I am sitting in dark alone Я сижу здесь один в темноте

In a street, where laughter once freely roamed, Played a boy, ’neath his sky, his dome. With a ball, his spirit as light as the breeze, Unaware of the approaching thunder, the seize. Then roared the jets, splitting the day, In terror’s grip, colors turned gray. His world shattered, bricks, and stones aligned, A picture of ruin, of humanity maligned. Amidst the dust, the boy stood in red, Echoing silence, dreams, and futures dead. His home lay bare, exposed to the core, Family memories scattered, to breathe no more. In trembling lips, his heart sought the sky, Pain etched within, too numb to cry. With blood and tears, his world amiss, He whispered, “Only Allah is with us in this.“