Should I not write about Africa?

Lachrymal drops cascade in Africa
and crash deaf into insatiable sand.
Man matches similar pores.
Despair has the sunless face of a child,
who unnaturally groans with wide pearls,
as stinging flies reside on his innocent eye canals,
a mother sick swims and drowns in anxiety.
Even a tear asks the morning dew
what it's doing tolerating
the harshness of inedible dust.
Poison grows in several forms:
rape, starvation, mutilation,
annihilations, genocide.
Pain has only one color
under the brittle stars in Africa.
Bring a new leaf.