“Keep your distance, please. I am afraid you might blow up.”

Lahore, Poetry

Sad, isn’t it.
The paranoia gripping us
& the way it
Seeps into our minds
& come out as humour,
As we struggle with fear
In our heads.
War is won for them.
But, there’s yet more to come.
More numbness to follow
The dear, dear lost ones
Which we didn’t see
As our own.
We have no words
For the winds to carry,
Mere mannequins in a window.
Our ears imitate a form not function.
We break because
We don’t bend.
We strike poses not of our choosing.
“Not all who exist
Have a voice.”
We protest aloud
In our windows,
In our minds.
We cheat our kind
& become toys.

0230hrs. 16/03/10

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