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,
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?
30 Mar 2013