Am I alien, a refugee or a traitor?
What am I?
Who will define me?
If I’m alien,
Why they gave me their name?
If a refugee,
Why they settled me here?
If a traitor,
Why don’t they wipe me out in one go?

Tortured men, raped women, burnt homes,
A condition set for sun to rise now,
As soon as morning arrives,
Banging they our doors not with their pious hands,
But by exploded, rippled bodies of our blooming buds,
Who are yet sprouting to bloom.
Trying when they give them a tough stand,
Embrace them with bunch of bloody hug,
And then trumpeting was a black sheep.

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WINDS OF LONGING

Worrying not what they thought me about,
A traitor, a pelter or parochial patriot,
Felt ache and depressed at every breath,
Why don’t they wipe us out in one go??

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