01 April 2013



I think
I might
There is a sexy possibility
That one day I would walk between these walls
Burn all the papers
Break all the glass
Throw all the dust outside the windows
Pack nothing but a sip of air
And walk away from this decadely limbo

For these night lights no more shine
And the roads keep vomitting rage
And this house I can no longer call mine
As peace here gets nightly raped

There is no light I see before me
There is but soot in every corner
There are no chirping tunes of victory
There are piles of weepers and daily mourners

Yet if, it happens, comes a day
Where we, desperate lot of a nation, have our say
What good will it do our battered hearts,
And how will they mend, our blood-etched scars?

How will we sleep,
Minds terror-free,
Of steel boots crashing through our dreams
How will we gather, without care,
That one of our breavehearts,
May no longer be there?

Why should I stay,
Do tell, my friend,
Why should I await a future I can't see?
How can I cling to a trace of hope,
If my nauseated instinct seduces me to flee?

Amal J,
30 Mar 2013

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