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A poem dedicated to all Rohingya genocide survivors

By Mayyu Ali

They’re Kind Killers

A stream of blood gushes

From where my husband and son were killed.

I watched

My baby snatched from me,

Thrown into the bonfire before my eyes.

He couldn’t even cry full song,

Burnt to fuel in a minute.

At least I didn’t have to see the corpses like others did,

Nor I did have to bury them.

They’re kind killers.

Killers enjoying the hunt.

One asked for money and gold,

I gave everything I owned, including my earrings

And they raped me one after another.

The last one said:

I am not going to use my penis on you

Instead, he used his knife.

They set me alight and left me for dead.

I find myself silent and bleeding.

The world is too brave to watch us being killed.

(Based on testimony of a Rohingya rape survivor of the Tula Toli Massacre carried out by the Myanmar military during the area clearance operation in August 2017) 

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