There’s a thin line which extends between
Two far-off hearts of neighbouring lands
And yet we choose to tiptoe
Ropes coiling our minds and keeping us down for
Love prevails but hate is the aim
And making a leap is a thought buried deep beneath
Layers and layers of clots of history
Which freeze our hearts and pick up swords
Piercing skins growing in the same womb
Brains at work to make way
For their own blood's early demise
Burnt bridges were never the need
A soft caress would have done the deed
But we choose the way out;
Discarding heads over mending hearts
And they loved too much but yet flipped the coin,
And hell hath no fury like a brother scorned.