Here, Am I,
living in the nation of dead
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
“My own People”, they say
I stayed Outcasted
Dress, and the
I wish to be the Pillar
Let me get the fragrance of my soil
Blessing of it.
Theme: Smell of Soil