Refugee (Poem)

Dark allure of the betrayal,

Sunk my fear in the stirring night,

For time, would never be loyal,

A scribble of what it is might.

But life, is not the kindest,

Where home are dreams to fear,

And linen that wiped the dry tears,

From praying hands to dying lands.

Hollow of chest

Bullet hole came to follow

A strike from the cowards

Ignites their failure.

An anthem to vow,

“My land is my home”

Became a voice so shallow

Justice but a blind icon,

Words told but a deserted prayer

With eyes sore in a world’s quarrel,

And justice,

A puppet of the mind’s player.