When pain relieves their anguish, they pained me
When the foundation of my caste was firm, they exiled me
Let them feed this repugnance, let me invoke the dead
If being patriotic is camouflage, let them execute me
This quip in the moon seems jocund, let the sun lament
When sun dwells to snivel, my mom mourns and goes like
This unhinge in the romantic state of brook curses the land
If you don’t know how to build ship, I am the ship master
The doleful cries of tattered honour, behests your ego
When the intensity of dolefulness slaps you, I esteem
The rambling motherhood narrates her story to revile
It sounds like mayhem, when her tantrums are hallucinating
I am a bird, I have no wings to shelter, my nest
I am a ship, just with no direction towards shore
Like an aspiring bud, want to develop in early spring
And like a mother, wishing for motherhood
But every dream like shattering at its own
Exude like loneliness and darkness at its own
With the helm of backfire and fall flat
At the cost of my life, my carrier, my vitality
Muhammad Yameen Sofi
Writer is a student can be mailed at safeerasofi@gmail.com
