In Mogadishu, Somalia, you Sometimes pass by a house where the family is singing to celebrating for a certain occsasion but shortly after you have crossed the road a rocket would land on the very house women shouted merrily, killing a number of family members and some of their visitors while turning the celebration to a mourning function with tears of blood flushing out from the eyes of the breaved.

In shortagesI live
In fighting I dwell
In anarchy I survive
I live in a country
Where pain and pleasure
Have no dividing barriers
They mix up in formidable ways
Like families with closer ties
Or embrace like two rivers of love
Exchanging kisses and hugs
In a frenzy of romantic passion
Here, in this nation of war
Pleasure is extracted
From under the skin of pain
While tragedy needs no bridge
To cross to the side of comedy
As between them there is no gap

Rockets would land unexpectedly
Amid dancing and laughing women
Who gathered to sing a peace song
But unfortunately witnessed horror
As an unsafe visitor landed safely
On the safe corridors of their hearts