Paralyzed Authorities
Making no-sense
Here, Am I,
living in the nation of dead
Or,
Am I,
the refugee of the country of birth?
Year by year
I have seen my soil shrinking
No Man’s Land, getting proximity
Loosing Identity, inches by inch.
Curse of voting, venomous Puppet
Instructed to, divide and rule
In a name of by/for/to the people
Later,
“My own People”, they say
Always, here,
I stayed Outcasted
Categorized by,
Tongue,
Color,
Dress, and the
Sacred thread.
I wish to be the Pillar
Unmovable,
Strong,
Hard,
Let me get the fragrance of my soil
And,
Blessing of it.
Mama.
Theme: Smell of Soil
Genre: Patriotic
