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.