BAGHDAD, Iraq — Like children everywhere, the boys and girls, ranging in age from 5 to 7 years old, are busy at play on a Baghdad street. But the game they're engaged in is hardly child's play.

Instead, the girls in the group scream in mock terror, pretending to have been kidnapped by a group of militants. One of the young "militants" waves a wooden sword, threatening to behead one of his captives.

The children are playing out the brutal reality they see every day on their streets or on the TV screens in their homes.

Children's advocates are becoming increasingly concerned about the effect the violence is having on children throughout the country. These youngsters have grown up knowing nothing but war, displacement, suicide attacks and car bombings.

Some are already calling youngsters growing up in Iraq's violent environment "the lost generation."

Given that nearly half of Iraq's population is under 18, it's a generation that is likely to bear the scars of the current violence in the country for years to come.

Some have already been traumatized into silence.

Ayat Salah, 6, stopped talking after she found a headless body in front of her house in Baghdad.

"Ayat had kissed me and her father goodbye in the morning as usual," said her mother, who declined to give her name for security reasons. "Then she left the house, and suddenly we heard her scream and saw she had fainted. She hasn't spoken a word since."

Shrooq Mustafa was at home when militants broke into her house and beheaded her father before her eyes. Shroog's father had worked as a translator for American troops in Baghdad. When family members found her, she was standing alone in her family's house, her father's body on the floor and her pink dress drenched with his blood. She was screaming and in a state of shock.

Sometimes, children themselves are the victims.

Earlier this year, the country's Ministry of Education reported that 64 children had been killed and 57 injured in 417 attacks on schools over a four-month period. The ministry also reported that more than 47 children had been kidnapped on their way to or from school during the same period.

During the same period, the report noted that 311 teachers and government employees had been killed and an additional 158 wounded in attacks.

It comes as little surprise that UNICEF recently reported that school attendance is steadily dropping. Many parents feel it's just not safe enough to send their children to school.

"Our children have lost their childhood," said Alaa Omran, a teacher in a primary school in the al-Masareef quarter in Mosul. Every day, she says he overhears youngsters talking about weapons or explosions. Almost all her students have had either a friend or relative killed or kidnapped.

"When the boys talk about cars, it's usually about what model was used in a car bombing in their neighborhood," Omran said. "Of course this is going to affect their personality and their psychology."

Haitham Hassan Mustafa, a professor at Mosul University, worries that this "lost generation" is growing up with no moral center, making them easy prey for criminals and insurgents who recruit them as accomplices.

Roger Wright, a special representative with UNICEF, agrees.

"These are the Iraqi leaders of tomorrow," he said. "They must be allowed to grow up and develop in an environment of care and respect, not constant concern and anxiety."

But it's already too late for 18-year-old Mufeed Salih, who's known as "the prince" on the street. He makes his living by helping a gang steal cars off Baghdad's streets. Sometimes he stands lookout as the gang makes off with a vehicle; other times he prowls the streets looking for attractive targets. He has a simple answer when asked why he chose a life of crime.

"Big fish eat smaller ones," he said. "We all have to live."

Sahar al-Haidery is a journalist in Iraq who writes for The Institute for War & Peace Reporting, a nonprofit organization that trains journalists in areas of conflict.