The war zone

I am a boy of six
Who lives between
Shatter homes and a damage street
Obstructions are there to reach the school
Under the bunk is my room
Violence, fighting is still on
In place of song I hear the shot,

Keen to survive
Right from the dawn they fired
Obstacles are there to run and escape
Yammers of bullets are clear
Whenever the saw us near
I and my grand is waiting to die
Under the bunk
With shatter home and a damage life

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this poem is about a child and his grandmother who live in a war zone